


Riptide

by GallifreyGod



Series: Riptide-verse [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Slowburn, Beaches, Denial of Feelings, Discussions Of The Past, Domestic, Drama, Elements of mystery, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Post-Season/Series 02, Romance, Secrets, Sexual Tension, Some Humor, Soul-Searching, Suspense, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-03-13 08:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 92,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18937702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyGod/pseuds/GallifreyGod
Summary: After the events that had tipped their world upside down, Joyce moves away and relocates to a place where she spent her summers as a child. When Hopper and El come out for a visit, their lives change more than they ever expected."Don't let the riptide wash away everything you've ever learned to love."





	1. Chapter One - A Newfound Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, the place that Joyce has moved to is an actual place. The reason I picked this location is because I spent my winters there as a child and I know the place like the back of my hand. Not only that but just being there sets the tone for exactly how I want this fic to feel. The sand on the beaches there alone has enough emotion to write this fic for itself. The only difference is that I will be basing the location as it is now, rather than how it was in the '80s. Does that make sense? The place has had so much renovation since then, and it's just easier to write it how it is now versus how it was back in the '80s. That's the only part of this that isn't necessarily compliant with the time change. Other than that, this fic is set post season 2. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, Joyce's apartment, as well as the locations and businesses mentioned, are real places. If you're the type of person who needs to see something to form a picture in their mind as to how it looks, here's the link the apartment that Joyce is living in. it's obviously a very different style than it would've been in the '80s, but just try to find a way to look past that.
> 
> Joyce's Apartment is obviously way more modern looking than it would be in the 80's, so if it helps, just kinda change the furniture in your head. Other than that, it's the same layout. The reason I'm including the link is just in case you want to see what the layout is in my head.  
> https://www.parker-kaufman.com/vacation-rentals/rental/Cottage111/
> 
>  
> 
> For future reference, I might make a list of the locations included in this story, just to give you as the reader some ease in trying to imagine what they look like. But as of now, every location mentioned will be a real place that you could easily look up online. Not sure if I'm going to do it just yet, but I'll let you know. If I do, I'll put the link in here, but it will be on tumblr as well. 
> 
>  
> 
> Another note. The rating of this story will change as it develops. As of now, there is no reason to rate it as mature, but that will change in later chapters. As soon as it does, I will re-update it to a mature/explicit rating. 
> 
>  
> 
> Lastly, I want to give an incredible thanks to my dear friend Cait, who you may know as @NoniHarbour who helps me so much and acts as my Beta for this fic. She's amazing, and she deserves all of your love. 
> 
>  
> 
> Xo, Abigail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopper makes the drive out to visit Joyce for the first time since she's moved.
> 
> Song of the chapter: Sleep by Azure Ray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> riptide locational master list !!!
> 
> https://jxpper.tumblr.com/post/185716627843/riptide-locational-masterlist-find-playlists

 

 

**rip·tide**

/ˈriptīd/

_noun_

A riptide is an extremely strong, unpredictable current that flows across another.  _Riptides_  are especially dangerous for ocean swimmers.

 

_"Don't let the riptide wash away everything you've ever learned to love."_

 

* * *

 

 

He isn't sure what to expect, or if he expects anything at all.

The drive had been treacherously long. For the past 8 hours, the wheels of the blazer continued to spin over the sun-parched pavement of the highway. He'd watched as the odometer on the dashboard had lazily flipped forward by one digit every few minutes. The steering wheel had become dented with his fingerprints at nine and six. 

Every so often, his left hand would free itself of its grip on the wheel and instead put a cigarette to his lips. He's tired of driving, but he's even more tired of the silence.

There had been a lot of that lately. Deafening silence filling up every crack and crevice of the cabin. It was unavoidable now that Joyce was gone. There was nothing to talk about; nothing to say. Just monotonous small talk, the occasional comment about nothing important or nothing at all. 

He thinks back to a time where life wasn't filled with silence. That would be six months ago, before Joyce left with her back turned to their small town of Hawkins... not to mention everyone else who took up residence there. He'd never realized that the topic of Joyce and the Byers family was where most of his conversations held their merit. 

But now she was gone and the silence hung. 

The sun burns through the lenses of his sunglasses. They were on the southern border of South Carolina now. He was almost certain the rubber would burn right off of his tires as they finally escaped the cold winter weather. The sun had been casting its glare down on the roads ever since they reached the north of Kentucky. 

His co-pilot was fast asleep in the passenger seat. So much for helping him navigate. Jane — who finally decided her name would be Ellie or Elle, had drifted off with the atlas still stuck in her grasp. Lucky her, Hopper thought. They'd both been awake since the crack of dawn; determined to make it to their destination before the sunset. Although, that wasn't looking too promising. The sun had begun painting the sky full of reds and oranges within the last hour. Oh well, they'd get there soon enough.

Joyce's move had been hard on all of them. He had just begun to see how a potential family could be blossoming within the five of them. Yet, he had let it slip between his fingers like sand. No, not let.  _Supported._  He pledged his support to Joyce's decision when it had first been mentioned. That didn't necessarily mean that her choices were safe with him behind closed doors. He'd cried. Elle had cried. Hell, they all cried. 

But it was for the best, right? It was what they needed. The Byers needed release from the living hell they had been trapped in. Hopper couldn't blame her for that. He wanted to, but something deep within his chest had refused to let him feel anger towards her decision... At least not as far as she could see.

Hawkins hadn't been home to her in a long time, and Hopper knew better than anybody that the worst feeling in the world was when home didn't feel like home anymore. He bit the bullet, let his emotions boil low in his stomach, and watched her walk away with her entire life packed up. Painful and teary-eyed goodbyes had been exchanged between both him and Joyce as well as the kids and their friends. It was for the best. That was the mantra that continued to sing in his head. 

Now, Joyce had found a new home. A small, quaint little island off the coast of Georgia. Jekyll Island, it was called. From the postcards that had arrived in the mail, he had to admit that it was a beautiful place to call home. It was quiet, mainly home to retirees who needed a slow-paced place away from the world. 

He remembered Joyce's exact words. They had bounced back and forth between his eardrums for weeks after he heard them.  _'This world wasn't made for people like me. This world goes too fast. Too much danger, too much risk. But this is the one place away from the world. It moves slower. Steadier.'_

He couldn't bring himself to argue with her logic. Not that logic had a place in their world anymore. Once you see what they saw, the otherworldly creatures and creations, there was no such thing as logic left. Instead, survival filled the spot where logic had left. If she needed this, he'd stand behind her and support her no matter how loud the cracking of his heart was in his ears. The exhaustion had taken over her body. The fear paralyzing. She just couldn't take it any longer. He understood, but he didn't like it. 

The moment the realtor had hammered in the for-sale sign in her front yard, Hopper realized that things were changing for real. He couldn't run away from it, he couldn't sit and wallow in denial. Not anymore. It was official. He had to deal with it somehow. 

He did, in fact, deal with it. He had surprised her and everybody else when he'd been the one to purchase her small little ranch house. The one that had a repaired hole in the wall courtesy of an ax. The scribbles of the tunnels had been cleaned up and thrown in the trash. The wallpaper covered up her makeshift painted alphabet. To an outsider, it would've just seemed like any normal house. He and Joyce knew the truth that hid between the studs of the walls. 

He had been looking to upsize he and Elle's living arrangements. She couldn't stay in that cramped cabin much longer, and he wasn't all that fond of it anymore either. He had jumped at the opportunity to keep the Byers' house from ending up in the hands of a stranger. Although, it only made him feel even more guilty for Joyce's departure. Now he was taking up residence in the only home her kids had known. A faint, almost indistinguishable voice in his head told him that buying the house would feel like kicking her out. He did what he could to push away that voice.  _No._  He was just saving the house in case she decided to return.

He told himself for months that she'd need this home just in case. Although he'd never admit it out loud, he thought that she'd come back at some point. He was just waiting for that day to come. It never did. Four months in, it had finally dawned on him that she wasn't coming back. Not for him. Not for Elle. Not for anybody. 

That revelation had stung quite a bit. It probably would've stung even more if he believed it to be 100% truthful. He couldn't help himself but to still hold on to a tiny sliver of hope that she might waltz back into Hawkins tomorrow and things would be back to normal.

They wouldn't. She won't.

Through the burn of exhaustion in his eyelids, he glanced to a passing sign. "Hey, kid. Pro'lly two and a half hours left then we'll be there," he mumbled, earning a tired grunt as a response. His eyes averted back to the road, staring down the long stretch of Route 17 Savannah Highway. 

Things had changed dramatically since the events of '83, but none he had seen quite as much as his own state of mind. He couldn't help but to watch other cars pass by on the road, wondering who they belonged to. What were their lives like? Where were they going? Did they have any clue that something strange was afoot on their own country's soil? Probably not. The breaking news of the Lab's practices had been played down by the country as a hoax. Many civilians had barely been able to admit to themselves that their own government had taken part in a horrid and manipulative project. No, they'd just go back to their little boxes and normal lives whilst pretending that nothing wrong ever happens in America. 

Maybe that was for the best. The fewer people know, the better. That had been the mantra of the Lab. It was rubbing off on him. 

* * *

 

 

The first few weeks without Joyce were some of the hardest of his life. He'd had a lot of hard weeks in his life, and a friend moving away shouldn't have been at a high point on the list of bad weeks, but it was. Nothing would ever top the week Sara got her diagnosis, or the week that he lost her. Still, the loneliness was a hell of a demon that he had no choice but to face. 

He'd grown used to her presence within the last two years. From barely talking to barely apart ever since Will's abduction. He'd grown fond of having her around. An objective eye as to how he was living his life, raising his daughter, and just plain surviving. More than a few times he'd turned his wrist to pass his cigarette before realizing that she wasn't there anymore. 

He'd often chastise himself for feeling lonely because he knew that he had a daughter who was always around him. But Elle was a teenager now, she was worried more about friends and school and that goddamn Wheeler kid than she was about spending time with her old man. But after Joyce left, he could see the loneliness in her too. She'd become close with Will, knowing that he had entered a part of her world that nobody else could even begin to understand. A sense of security and a shoulder to cry on when coping with her past. Hopper didn't just lose Joyce, Elle lost Will. 

The way he knew how to describe it best was that his family had been torn apart. Except this wasn't his family. Not in any official sense, and probably not in Joyce's eyes. They were two families that happened to be close, right? The self-deprecating side of his brain told him that he had no right to grieve the loss of their 'family' because it wasn't his to grieve in the first place. The Byers did not belong to him. He did not own them.  _They aren't yours._

It was a struggle to force himself to be happy for Joyce. She was reclaiming her life, and that meant leaving him behind. He couldn't spin it any other way, it was simply the truth. She did what she had to do to save her family and herself. The stress, he'd watch it eat her alive day after day. He wanted to cheer her on, be proud of how much strength it must've taken to leave it all behind. The pity party he had thrown himself had been filled with the ideology that he was not a part of the life she would take with her when she left. He'd come to terms with that someday, just not any time soon. 

A few months into his new life without Joyce, he'd considered the idea of visiting her. She had promised him that any time he wanted, he was welcome to come and visit. At first, he didn't want to. He didn't even want to look at her, he was so mad. He tried and tried again not to let Joyce see just how angry he was at her for leaving. She didn't deserve that, so his anger was kept to himself. Elle had begun to mention more frequently that she missed Will, and that was when the anger began to dissipate enough that he knew he could finally face Joyce... hopefully. 

So that was Elle's 15th birthday gift, a trip to see her friend on vacation. 

It had worked out well enough. The kids were on Thanksgiving break so nobody would be missing too much school. Hopper had saved up enough vacation days at work — not that anybody was willing to tell the Chief of Hawkins P.D. that he wasn't allowed to leave. 

Before he knew it, the time had passed and the sun had officially settled in for the evening. He was finally crossing over the bridge to the island and bringing their day-long drive to an end. The photos he had seen could've never done the island justice, even though it was dark as midnight outside. Just over the peak of the bridge, he could see the clubhouse that Joyce had talked all about over the phone. It looked like a castle, it's yellow and white exterior visible through the tall trees. 

Rolling down the windows, Jim took a long inhale of the saltwater air. The breath that filled his lungs nearly took the wind out of his sails. How could the scent of the island air be so relaxing? The cool November breeze washed over his face as he drove towards the parking toll. He was starting to understand just how alluring the urge to pack up and move away could be — especially when a simple breath of the air could be so relaxing. 

Through the glare of his headlights, he maneuvered his way down the roads, trying to find the address she'd given him. 

 _'Take_ _Beachview_ _, it's the main road through the island. When you reach the cottages, swing a right at the third entry on the grounds. Cottage 111, that's us.'_

He chuckles quietly when he thinks back to hearing her voice. She sounded so sure of herself. He could practically hear the smile on her face through the phone. God, he missed that smile. The last time he had seen her smile, it was a smile that had been a cover for the exhaustion that had been dwelling within her. After a while, her smiles never really hit her eyes; just the muscles in her cheeks trying so hard to pass off as something normal. A normal grin that she hadn't worn in months.

Hopefully, the sticky saltwater air and surrounding palm trees will have lifted that god awful exhaustion from within her. He hoped, he prayed so. 

She needed this, he repeats to himself for the millionth time. She needed this and god-forbid if it hadn't done her any justice. 

His eyes scanned through the number labels on the little cottages. As the numbers reached closer and closer to their destination, his heart pounded a little harder in his chest. 

"111, here we are."

As the vehicle slowly pulled into the small driveway, he glanced around at Joyce's new home. It was nice, freshly built and had a sense of warmth to it. As soon as he put the car in park and the motor came to a halt, he was overcome with the sound of crashing waves in the distance. 

 _"You're always less than a mile or two from the beach. It's nice."_  Joyce had mentioned in the first phone call she had made to Hopper since moving. Except, the beach was directly in her backyard. More like less than a hundred yards from her at all times. 

"Ellie J," Hop whispered, knowing that name would grab her full attention. He watched his daughter struggle out of a deep sleep, waking up in a disoriented state and confused about where she was. She looked around, squinting her eyes as she tried to regain her bearings. "We're here."

He gives her a moment to wake up while he releases the back hatch of the Blazer. Staring down at the luggage and bags, he began to wonder what it felt like for Joyce to leave. To stare down at her entire life in labeled boxes. How did she uproot everything she had built and move it thousands of miles away? It couldn't have been easy. Hell, nothing was easy anymore. But it was a sacrifice she had made and all he could think about was how hard it must have been for her to make it. Had she thought it through?

As he started to catch himself getting lost in his thoughts, a light flicked on in Joyce's apartment and dragged his gaze away from the trunk of the truck. She knew he was here. She must have waited up for him, long past the time she had expected to see him. She'd expected him around dinner time, but the traffic had picked up when they had reached Charlotte.

It had all come down to this. Six months apart. He had gone six whole months without seeing the things he loved so much about her. Her smile, her laugh, and the calming presence that seemed to float along with her. 

Now it seemed that his heart was no longer in his chest, but instead, locked in his throat. 

He stands at the back of the truck, looking over at the entry of the house as Joyce slowly steps out of the door. Something deep within him feels a sudden bit blissful. She's still 5'3, tiny but mighty Joyce Byers. He locks eyes with her, watching a slow but truthful smile take over her expression. Through the darkness, he can see the reflection of her eyes and the small flick of fire at the end of her cigarette.

He feels himself begin to smile back at her. No words are necessary to be exchanged. The smile she wears is enough of a welcome. 

He can't see much through only the moonlight, but he can already see the good that the sun has done her. Her eyes don't look so tired and lifeless, her skin glows so slightly, and her grin seems sincere. She hasn't changed entirely, from what he can see. Her hair is still reflectively auburn with the soft waves she had started wearing in '84. 

She is still so breathtaking. 

That could never change. Never. 

"You just gonna stand there all night and stare at me?" she teases playfully. 

He could've if he had wanted to. Every corner of the village had a beautiful view, but she was a sight to be seen. Somehow being near her for less than a minute had begun to fill the void he had felt from her six-month absence. The anger he felt towards her for leaving was dissipating slowly, just from finally seeing her standing ten yards away.

From the few fleeting moments that had come after not seeing her for so long, he could easily conclude that she seemed happier. There wasn't a persistent nagging of exhaustion as her shoulders slumped down from the weight of the world on them. She didn't seem as empty and hollow as she did when she had left. She seemed...  _better._  Was it wrong that he was almost jealous? He'd give the world to have a consistent, un-stressful life. Except, he wasn't entitled to that luxury quite like Joyce was. 

With her hands wrapped around a coffee mug and her cigarette still tucked between her fingers, she made her way down the front steps and towards him. Was this really happening? Was he actually standing in front of her? Or would his mind dissolve this image as he woke up from just another loneliness induced dream?

He watches her as she trails closer to him and begins to feel the need to pinch himself. If this wasn't a dream, it sure as hell felt like one. Too good to be true. Things that were too good to be true didn't come to him frequently. Not in this life. They were rare, unexpected moments that needed to be savored in order to provide him enough hope to keep going. 

"It's good to see you." he croaked out, barely managing his words out of fear that his voice would give, as well as the fact that he still could barely believe he was standing in front of her once again. He had a million different things he wanted to say to her, things he had planned to say as soon as he saw her again. Those words could wait a little while though. Instead, he realized he'd rather take in the moment while it was still right in front of his eyes. 

He looked down at the luggage that his tired arms had barely been able to haul from the truck. They had packed lightly, unsure of just how long they'd be staying. The original plan was a week at most, but the longer that he stood next to Joyce, the more he realized it would be harder to leave. 

"It's good to see you too..." she replied, her voice almost as silent as an exhale. Her breath hitched in her chest as soon as the words escaped. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it was a quick instinct of hers to be able to tell that Hopper's mind was clearly too occupied to hold a conversation. 

While his hand wrapped around the handle of Elle's suitcase, he saw from the corner of his eye that his daughter was lazily sliding out of the passenger seat. Jim's heart clenched beneath his ribs as he watched Elle bring Joyce into a quiet and tired hug. Joyce wrapped the sleepy girl up in her arms, hugging her as tight as she did when Elle had come home and saved the day in '84.

They were family. A broken family. Scattered pieces all over the map. 

But they were home now. At least for a short while. Home didn't necessarily have to mean a house with a roof on it, but instead a presence of someone who makes you feel safe and warm. Elle had easily found a home inside of Joyce. Joyce was the first one to ever treat Elle with the warmth and motherly touch that she had missed out on for twelve whole years. 

That was an area of which took up most of Hopper's anger at Joyce for leaving. Elle needed her, probably more than she had ever needed someone. She had Hopper, but no matter how hard he tried or how many miles he ran, he could never be an endearing and motherly type that she needed. He certainly wouldn't find that trait in a woman whom he'd found at the Hideaway. Joyce was one of the only women in his life who he'd trust around his daughter. 

As soon as he caught his mind drifting over to the looming anger he had been feeling, he forced himself to take a deep breath.  _No. No anger right now. This is a happy moment._   Once again, the lung full of the salt water air had lulled the burning of his nerve endings. 

There would be no anger. Not tonight. Not as long as he could help it. 

 

* * *

 

 

"How'd you find this place?" Hopper asked. 

Elle was sound asleep in one of the twin beds in Will's room. He had been certain the poor kid would nearly fall asleep from exhaustion while Joyce gave her a quick tour of the home, just to make sure she knew where the bathroom was and where Hopper would be. After showing Hopper to his room, they had both retreated out to the porch for a midnight drink.

It was a nice apartment. Nicer than he had expected. Three bedrooms, four bathrooms, and more space than she and Will needed. She had rationalized letting herself splurge on a nice apartment for her new chapter in life. Jonathan would need a place to stay when he came home for the holidays, and surely they'd have visitors that would need room for friends to stay. Sure, now that she had a decent income from the discretionary fees that the Lab had to pay. A nice house on the beach wasn't nearly enough to compensate for what her family had gone through, but it was also more than enough to keep them happy. 

She had explained to Hopper that she continued to work at the new job that she had found as soon as she moved.  _The money from the Lab wouldn't last forever, but it'll help save up for the future,_  she had elucidated her reasonings with him as if he wouldn't already understand. Sometimes she feared that if she didn't get her rationalizations out in one breath, there would be more room for someone to develop a judgment over her actions. Except that was almost never the case with Hopper. He knew her reasons, he didn't have any room to judge her. 

"Spent my summers here as a kid. Dad had a partnership with the island's historical society," she answered after a long gaze out over the ocean. That was her favorite part of her new home; the wrap around porch they had sat down on, directly overlooking the mighty Atlantic. Being able to wake up to the sound of the crashing waves right outside her door was a blessing that she made sure she didn't take for granted. 

Joyce had spent the better part of 3 months battling with the idea of leaving Hawkins for good. She wasn't culpable for what had happened to her family, but she couldn't stand by and watch it happen for a third time. That would be a gamble with the payout being her son's life. It had been a constant weighing of pros versus cons when she'd begun to think about moving. No matter how many cons there would've been, no matter how much she'd be sacrificing, her son's life was not something that should hang in the balance between life and death. That had sealed the deal for her. It wasn't without its own heartbreak, but it was for the best. 

She kept telling herself that. Over and over until she finally believed it. This was for the best.

She knew how hard it would be on them to move. Especially Will. That wasn't lost on her. He'd be losing his friends and the only life he had ever come to know. All Joyce could do was hope and pray that one day, he'd understand that his life was important, and she had to do everything in her power to make sure he was safe. 

"How'd Will take it when you got here?" Hopper asked. Joyce wondered if he could read her mind. With all the time she had spent with him over the past two and a half years, he had easily been able to predict her next thoughts and actions. 

She wanted to lie to him. She wanted to say that Will was thrilled and had adjusted perfectly. Anything to keep up the façade that what she had done was the right choice. But this was Hopper, and she could never bring herself to lie right to his face. Or at all for that matter. He knows her too well. He can instantly spot her lies from the truth, no matter how hard she had worked to perfect her poker face. 

The truth was, Will had not taken the move well. At all. It had taken over three weeks for him to even hold a decent conversation with her more than once a day. He didn't even want to look at her for the first few weeks. Seething mad that she had pulled him away from everything important to him. His friends, his school, his entire life had been embedded into the soil of Hawkins. 

"It was rough at first." her voice but a mumble as she chewed at her bottom lip, her eyes losing focus on whatever it was she was staring at. She felt like a terrible mother as she watched the reaction of the change in her son. He hadn't eaten as much. He wasn't interested in leaving the house other than to go to school. Every single day she had to keep reminding herself that this would be worth it. Her son's precious life was worth the pain... even if it was his pain instead of hers. "He's doing better now. Made some nice friends at his school on the Mainland." 

Through the corner of her eye, she could see Hopper staring her down. His eyes practically burning a hole in the side of her face. She had nearly forgotten about that thousand-yard stare of his. Whenever he thought she wouldn't notice, his eyes had attached directly on her. Maybe he was looking directly through her. As if he could pinpoint every lie that left her lips in an attempt to keep this image up. She didn't want him to see the parts of her that weren't doing well. All in all, she  _had_  been doing good. She loved it here, she felt safe. That didn't mean that she wasn't homesick or that some parts of her regretted moving. She did what she had to do. 

"I'm sure that with time..." his voice trailed off into the distance, unsure of how truthful his words would be. She knew how mad Hopper had been that she moved. She also knew just how hard he had tried to conceal that anger and support her. She appreciated it, she needed that support from him more than anybody in the world. Things were not picture perfect, nor would they ever be, but she tried to remain confident in her decision. 

"Are you happy out here?" his question nearly took the wind out of her sails. Her head jutted softly as she turned to look up at him. 

"Wh-what?" she sputtered, her voice beginning to give her away. 

Hopper exhaled, running the events of the past few months through his head. "Are you happy? Out here? I mean — You came here to heal, not just to get your family away from the danger. You can tell me until you're blue in the face that safety was the only reason you left, but I know you and I know that isn't true. A small part of this was for yourself too — and that's perfectly fine. But are you happy?" 

Something deep inside of her told her that this was one of the things she missed the most about Hopper. His blunt, brutal honesty. It certainly wasn't his best trait, but it was a small puzzle piece that made him into who he was. He was still the same old Jim Hopper. Always able to throw her off when she least expected it. As she contemplates finding the right answer to give him, her eyes trail over the blue-hued smoke from the end of her cigarette.

"I... I don't know how to answer that... I guess so." 

"It's a simple question, Joyce. Are you happy?" he is persistent. God, he's always so fucking persistent. Borderline badgering and she knew that he would never let up until he was happy with the right answer. The last thing she needed was to give him ammunition in his persuasive efforts of bringing her back to Hawkins. She made her bed, she was going to lie in it whether he liked it or not.

"Yes," she answered through her gritted teeth, sounding too dishonest for her own liking. Her single word came out sounding more like an accusation; which was the opposite of what she wanted it to be. It wasn't entirely truthful, it wasn't quite a lie, but it was the right answer. The only answer she could give that would get him off her back about this. 

She wanted peace, goddamnit. That was why she moved. As long as threats continued to hang over Hawkins, there would be no peace to be found. She would never sleep again. She'd worry until her hair turned gray. She needed peace more than she needed reason, and peace was reason enough. 

The silence between them was suddenly thick, only being broken by the crashing of the waves in the distance. He had overstepped and he knew it. She had bit back too hard and she hadn't meant to. Sliding easily back into their old ways of bicker and banter was going to be harder than either of them expected. Too much had changed, too much was different. She didn't want to be miserable anymore, was that too much to ask for? 

She pressed her index finger to her temple, resting her fingers on the bridge of her nose with a barely audible sigh. She wasn't asking him to like what she had done, she was only asking him to at least be supportive. That's what friends did for each other. If he couldn't at least do that, then they weren't friends. She saw the effort he put into trying to support this massive change, it wasn't lost on her. But Hopper had never been good at keeping up an appearance if it didn't match what he was feeling on the inside. On the inside, he was furious with her. He was livid and heartbroken and utterly confused... but so was she. Except, all for different reasons. 

God, all she wanted was to be able to breathe. She couldn't breathe in Hawkins anymore. It was smothering her, wrapping its arms around her like a vice. She couldn't take it. It was either break down or break free and she chose the latter. Not just for herself, but for her kids. They deserved a mother who could  _be_  a mother. She had spent so much time trying to grow eyes in the back of her head that she couldn't even function anymore. Every turn and every corner held the risk of hiding a monster behind it. 

_'People who fight monsters better make damned sure they don't become one.'_

She was becoming a monster. Overbearing and overprotective. Traumatized from what that town had done to her and her family. Paranoid and constantly living in fear of what was waiting for her. She'd seen too much death and decay, too much loss and tragedy. She was powerless as to what she could do to fix it. Her sons deserved a better life than that, and that was all that she had left in her power. To take them away from it all; one last act of protection before letting them run free at their own accord. She could breathe here. There was no worry or fear of letting Will within 20 feet out of her sight. She had control now, and control was the last thing she ever expected to regain. 

"Look," she spoke slowly and quietly, her voice deep and laced with anguish. "If you came here to tell me that you think I've made the wrong decision. If you came here for any other reason or ulterior motive than to visit with your friends... then go home." 

The bite in her last three words felt like a stab wound in his chest. The look he gave her as a response only returned the sharp pain to her instead. She had seen that expression of his once before. When her nerves were frayed from worry and she'd spit the words out of her mouth,

_"Wouldn't you know your own daughter's breathing!"_

The puppy dog look in his eyes along with the small slack in his jaw; it burned. Everything in her life had fallen apart, she didn't want that to extend into her friendship with Hopper either. But if she stood alone in this decision that she had made, then so be it. She would find happiness eventually. She would adjust to the change soon. With or without his support. 

"Now," her voice came out calmer, her words no longer laced with venom. "If you decide that it's in your best interests to leave, then do so. If not, I will see you in the morning for coffee and a fresh start. Goodnight." Slowly, she hauled herself out of the cozy porch chair and retreated to her bedroom for the night, leaving him alone with his thoughts until he was ready to call an end to his evening. 

 


	2. Chapter Two - Mixed Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adjusting to the change of atmosphere, Hopper thinks back to what it felt like when Joyce moved; while Joyce goes to her favorite place to clear her head
> 
> Song of the chapter: Truce by Twenty One Pilots

Between the sheets of the guest bed, Hopper tossed and turned endlessly. 

A constant replay in his head of their encounter. He had fucked up. He knew it. He pushed too hard, one strong-willed person against another. He hadn't meant for his words to come out so harsh, he had meant the sincerity that he tried to apply to his words. It just didn't come out that way. It never did. He had wasted precious time with his best friend by arguing with her instead. He felt foolish.

But the longer it took for him to settle in for the night, the more he analyzed her words. She was right. Somewhere inside of him was a motive to convince her to come back to Hawkins. Instantly, the guilt felt crushing. She was his friend and he was hers. He didn't want to hurt her, and yet he had. She had trusted him, an error of judgment in which she thought he supported her. He didn't want to be just any other loser who had let down Joyce one time and another. He was supposed to be different. 

She always had his back, no matter the time, place, or problem. Ever since they were children, she had always been ready and willing to go up to bat for him. Now, he couldn't even do that for her. She needed him now more than ever, just as an understanding and listening ear. God, why couldn't he even do that? No, he had to push and push until she breaks. 

As soon as he had arrived, he understood more of her reasoning behind leaving. With the gentle crashing and rocking of the waves not too far off into the distance, one could never be lonely. One could never feel as if they were in the wrong place. She had taken action, made a choice to better her life for her and her kids. For God's sake, he outta be commending her on making such a big sacrifice, not dragging her through the mud. 

It had taken time to adapt to the understanding that Hawkins was no longer home to her anymore. He couldn't comprehend it for a long time. While still living in New York, his life in shambles after losing his daughter and his marriage, all he wanted was to run back home to Hawkins where he felt safe. It was his own place away from the rest of the world. But Joyce didn't have that anymore. He couldn't demean her based on their differences anymore. She was right, he was here to visit and have fun with her and the kids. 

_Let the riptide wash away your incentive._

The longer he stayed awake, the more fierce the exhaustion became. It felt like rain falling down on his skin, slowly trying to take him away from the world. His arms hurt from holding the steering wheel all day, and the seats in the blazer weren't exactly therapeutic. But more than anything, his heart hurt worse. That was the true reason why he couldn't bring himself to succumb to the call of a good night's sleep. 

His heart had been aching for a while now. Six months. Six whole months. His heart had hurt for most of his life, but reuniting with Joyce in '83 had felt like a salve on a burn. She gave him a reason to exist, along with Elle and the kids as a whole. He had found a family in her; he had thought for sure that it would come down to that. He tried his hardest, fighting and kicking and screaming himself away from falling into how easy it would be to finally have a family again. He wanted it so badly, but felt so undeserving. Who was he to earn back a chance at having a family? He was a cop who spent his days eating donuts and popping Tuinal like candy. Joyce deserved something better than that. Something better than a broken man who couldn't hold himself upright and function in a normal day-to-day life.

Then Ellie came along, helped guide him back to a life worth giving a damn. Slowly but surely, the five of them seemed to fit the criteria for an actual family; even without blood or marriage. Just on freestanding faith alone. But it was too good to be true. God, it always fucking was. He tried so hard not to get his hopes up, but the universe just seemed to push and push until they were nearly in each other's arms. Right as he felt himself beginning to fall, the rug had been swept out from under him and the sense of security was gone. She was leaving.

Now he was left free falling off of the goddamn Empire State Building. 

It felt like a smack in the face. A flat palm struck against his cheek like a father punishing his child. She was leaving it all behind, and he had never felt so stupid. The black hole may not have gotten Joyce, but whatever karmic response he had coming for him did. It swooped her up and carried her away right in front of his eyes. Just out of reach. 

He tried. He tried so hard to support her, but it felt as if he was supporting the universe's decision to kick his ass back down into the dirt. It burned, searing angry pain every time he heard or saw anything to do with Joyce leaving this life behind. He didn't want to be angry at her, but he was angry at everything after that. 

James Hopper was an irrevocably damaged man. Joyce Byers was simply a woman who felt as if she was drowning. He had never known any other person who would gravitate towards the water when they felt as if they already submerged. He loved that about her. He loved a lot of things about her. But he hated a lot of things too, like how he had let the riptide pull her away from him right as he felt like everything seemed it was about to fall in place. 

The first night when she had left, he wasn't sure he knew how to survive. She was off starting the beautiful next chapter of her life, while he was dreading closing his. He had been inching towards almost two years of being clean and sober from the drugs. But that night... he had been teetering on the brink of relapse, trying to think of every possible reason why he shouldn't throw it all away. 

"Medicine?" Elle had asked when she saw him holding the orange bottle that night. "But you're not sick, _right?_ " the fear in that poor kid's voice had only made the ache worse. Her Mama had been sick, her Papa sick in the head, and he could already see the panic in her eyes. He wanted to give her his classic junkie answer. _'Yeah, I'm sick and I hurt all over.'_ But he didn't. Thank Christ, because he wasn't sure how he would've ever been able to come back from that a second time. He didn't give the kid enough credit, she saved him in more ways than he could count. 

But that night when he had laid his head down on his pillow, he wondered how he could possibly live a life without Joyce. Without Thursday movie nights. Without lunch breaks together. Without shared cigarettes on the porch when the moon was out and the stars were shining too brightly. How could he possibly live without her now that she had mended every bruise and break on his body? How could he keep going without the soft touch and redirection that she had added to his world?

Except, it wasn't about him anymore. _Selfish son of a bitch._ This was about what she needed to do in order to protect what she loved at all costs. It was about sacrificing the things she loved for things that she loved more. She needed to live her life while she still had it, not just skate by on barely surviving. She deserved more than that. 

God, she deserved so much fucking more. 

Just as he could no longer fight it, the exhaustion forced his eyes to close while the crashing of the waves sung him a lullaby. _Sleep, just sleep. You can start fresh tomorrow._  His breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling as he fell deeper and deeper into the long awaited sleep. 

 

* * *

 

 

The sun rises through the blinds in Joyce's room, hovering right above her head and bouncing off the wall. She's tired, but she's rested. Her arms sprawl out, fists tightened as she stretches the sleep away from her body. The ceiling to floor windows allows the perfect amount of brightness to fill the room without being blinded. No more being woken by the incessant ringing of an alarm clock. 

She's lucky, she thinks. 

The seagulls are chirping, starting their morning by soaring over the sparkling ocean water. The high tide is pulling back now, leaving miles of freshly bathed sand for the morning crew to embed their footsteps in. Shells and sand-dollars lay upon on the pathways, waiting to be picked up and taken home by visitors or collectors.

The palm trees sway with the gentle morning breeze, greeting people as they begin their brand new day. Flip flops will leave their trails on the pavement today. Bikes will run their tires over the designated pathways through the island today. Some visitors will arrive today, some will go home. 

She's lucky.  _So lucky._

It's early, but she's no longer burdened by exhaustion. The sheets feel soft on her skin, but she's ready to rise and start for a new day, make a new memory, and do it all again tomorrow. She no longer feels the need to begrudgingly force herself out of bed and just survive. No. Today, she will live. 

Sliding out of bed, her feet plant firmly on the warm, sun-soaked floorboards. She grabs the pack of cigarettes from her nightstand and makes her way over to the door of the patio adjoining her bedroom. She swears that she'll never get over the sun covering her face. It's too perfect. She'll never take it for granted. 

It feels almost sinful lighting up a cigarette in such a beautiful place. She'll quit soon, that's what she always tells Will. He'll hold her to that promise someday, just not today. 

As she takes a deep breath filled with saltwater and nicotine, she remembers that Hopper is sleeping soundly in her house. Just a wall or two away from her. Thousands of miles away from his home and her old home, he is here. She lets last night's conversation roll off of her skin along with the other stress. She's washed in the water here, the small things don't get to her anymore. He's here now, that's what matters. 

Deep down, something inside of her feels more complete today than it did yesterday. He's here for a week or two now, and she'll feel that near completeness until the moment he leaves. If only Jonathan were here, she thinks, she'd be nearly complete. 

She lets the ash of her cigarette fall down from the second-story patio, careful not to let it burn the wood railing. Her gaze travels up and down the coast of the beach and she wonders why nobody is strolling through. 'It's too cold this time of year' is the response the old-timers usually give her. She doesn't understand it. Back in Hawkins, there is snow peppered over the ground as the winter comes to fruition. That's where the cold is, not here. 

Through the open patio doors, she hears a faint sound of giggling somewhere in the house. A smile blossoms on her face when she realizes it's her son's laughter. A true laugh.  A sound she hasn't heard in months. Crushing the remainder of her cigarette in the ashtray, she trails away to find the source of the laughter. 

Down the stairs and into the first-floor bedroom, she peaks her head in and sees Elle and Will sitting on their beds. They're laughing about something, but the reason is lost on her. It doesn't matter; they're laughing, that's what matters. 

"Good morning, guys," she whispers with a smile of her own. The two kids look up at her, happiness dwelling in their eyes. Her heart clenches in her chest, finally seeing her son somewhat happy after moving. The move had been with the purpose of keeping him alive, but she hated seeing it strip away his happiness along with it. "What's so funny?" 

"Elle's just catching me up on some stuff from back _ho_ — back in Hawkins." A sad smile grew on Will's face. Joyce heard his stutter, his honest mistake that wasn't a mistake because Hawkins was still home to him in his heart. God, it hurts too much. She just wanted her baby alive, why did that have to go hand in hand with the loss of his happiness?

Joyce flashed back the same sad smile that Will had worn. She tried to think of different ways to make the move work, something that had a happy medium. Compromise. But there was no way to compromise something as dramatic as their situation. There was no half-way happy, at least not one that she could find.

Scratching the back of her head, she tried to think of something to fill the awkward silence that now hung over the three of them. "Hey... how about I make some Eggo Supremes for breakfast?" she asked, watching both of them grin from ear to ear. Elle's Eggo addiction had spread to Will after they started spending more time together. Especially since Elle had explained the concept of an Eggo Supreme and Will nearly collapsed with joy after trying it for the first time. 

The two kids eagerly nodded their heads, returning back to their conversation as Joyce quietly left them to their own devices. She was trying. She was trying so damn hard to just be what she needed to be — a mother. A mother who makes the selfless sacrifice to put her child's life above all else. A mother who would not just keep him surviving, but also letting him live the beautiful life he had that they had the blessing of saving. He could've easily died in the Upside Down, but he wasn't living anymore. He wasn't able to appreciate the fact that he still had air in his lungs and blood in his body; at least not until that goddamn lab was shut down for good and the risks were gone. 

She was trying to let him live his life. Except, this wasn't the life he wanted to live. 

In the kitchen, she made sure to put on a pot of coffee. If she still knew anything about that man, it was that he needed coffee in the morning more than any other human she had ever met. She thought back to the times when she would stop by the police station in the morning on her way to work. He would always be absolutely unbearable until the caffeine had enough time to settle into his system. 

While the coffee maker started to prepare the brew, she grabbed the essential contents of an Eggo Supreme from the refrigerator — nearly laying half of the junk food in the house down on the counter. _God, the kids are going to be bouncing off the walls today_ , she thought to herself. It was worth it. It would always be worth it. She had realized in her short time here that moments of happiness were fleeting, so there was no reason to chase them off. The kids would be hyper, but they would be happy. 

Worth it. 

She wondered what she and Hopper would spend their day doing. Would they be able to avoid the inevitable arguing that had made their first night together go sour? Or would he march back to Hawkins knowing that he couldn't support her decisions? Her shoulders tensed at the simple thought of him leaving before he's even spent time with her. 

 _"Stop,"_ she breathed almost silently, chastising herself for allowing the stress she fought off so diligently to come back. 

The sound of the Eggos popping out of the toaster startled her, pulling her out of her reverie. She tried to remember her surroundings as she prepared the kids' breakfast. _Feel your feet on the ground. Take a deep breath._

_Let the riptide wash away your doubt._

She layered the Eggos with whipped cream, and the sound of the can spraying the sweetness onto their breakfast had caused the kids to come running. Their excitement stirred something endearing inside of her. They were both been through so much, yet they remained so innocent. How is it possible that two kids who had Hell served to them on a silver platter could stay so pure? It amazed her. 

"I'm gonna go take a walk on the beach, are you guys going to be okay alone?" She asked as Elle and Will settled onto the couch with their blankets wrapped around them and their food in their lap. This was part of the point of her leaving. To let Will flourish without having to keep her eye on him every minute of every day. She just needed to practice what she preached. 

"We'll be fine!" Will answered, his mouth full of food as he turned cartoons on the television. 

Joyce grabbed her sandals that sat at the patio door, grains of sand still stuck to the bottom of the soles from the last time she had worn them. 

They'll be fine. 

 

* * *

 

 

Through the walls of the apartment, Hopper could hear the faint sounds of laughing and cartoons on the TV from downstairs. The sun was glaring through his window, reminding him that the sun had risen and the day had started without him. Although he hadn't slept for nearly as long as he had hoped, he would fully admit that the salt water air had knocked him out cold. 

Something was different. 

Rested. He felt rested. Something he hadn't felt in a very long time. 

There had been no need to sleep with one eye open, awaiting some sort of predator that would eventually find them and raise hell once more. No monsters, no alternate dimensions. Just comfort. 

That kind of sleep felt worlds away back in Hawkins. 

The smell of freshly made coffee hitting his nose was what had ultimately pulled him out of bed. Joyce knew him. Six months apart and she never forgot a single thing about him, right down to his favorite kind of coffee beans. He missed her. He missed the little details and nuanced things that she would do for him. Things he should've done in return. 

Still clad in his pajamas, Hopper walked into the living room to see the same scene that Joyce had left. The kids were happily occupied, eyes glued to the television as they ate their breakfast. In a way, he felt almost jealous of the sibling-like chemistry between Elle and Will. How easily they slid back into being around each other. Without a care in the world

"Hey, buddy. How's it going?" he grins as he sees Will for the first time in months. He was taller, a little skinnier, and still had his signature 'saving money' bowl cut. Six months apart and he was finally able to see just how much the kid truly looked like his mother. Being around them so much in '84 had clouded that perception of his, but he truly was Joyce's son. 

"Good!" Will replies with a mouth full of food and a smile plastered widely across his face. 

"Joyce made Eggo supremes for breakfast," Elle replies, her mouth equally full.

"I see that." he chuckles. Domestic. God, he hadn't seen the two of them this happy in months. They were falling back into their rhythm. The sense of solidarity present only when they were together. They were a force to be reckoned with, those two. Bonded between their own past traumas. 

Those two... they were so damn lucky to have found each other. 

 Hopper pulled himself back to reality, remembering the urge stirring in him to load his system with caffeine and finally start the day. "Speaking of which, where is your mother?" he asks as he walks over to the kitchen, pouring himself a generous cup of coffee. 

"She went for a walk on the beach!" Will answers before turning his head back to the tv and taking another bite of the near dessert-like breakfast on his plate. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

His toes bury into the sand, letting the granules cover his skin. A sensation he had not felt since his childhood while visiting Myrtle Beach around the time he was seven years old. The air feels crisp, not cold enough to nip at his skin, but just enough where it's refreshing. With the sky as clear as crystal, he can spot the cargo ships floating along the line of where the sky meets the ocean.

The water rocks back and forth slightly, gently splashing along the sand when the waves make their final descent into the land. The last of the incoming water foams when it reaches the shore, just before retreating back out into the vast ocean. The push and pull of the waves had always amazed him; as if gravitational inertia didn't apply to the water itself. It had a mind of its own. 

The water had a soul. An attitude. It lived by its own rules. Not a single person on Earth could tell the water to live by confines other than it's own. Maybe that's why Joyce moved here, Hopper thought. She needed something to relate to. She related to the ocean and just how majestic it could be as long as it was free to live life as it pleases. 

It was impossible to be lonely while standing near the water. It had a way of speaking to you. A universal language of love and understanding, yet no exchange of words were necessary. The water, it understood you. It understands your intentions and your wishes. It goes deeper than anybody could fathom, hosting life to various species. 

It was beautiful. 

Along the isle of sun-baked sand, Hopper spots Joyce standing over forty yards away from him. She's staring down the gently crashing waves, almost like she's confiding in an old friend. He senses that she's trying to find an understanding of the mixed emotions that she's feeling, and the water is listening. Guiding her back to the mindset she so desperately needs to be in. 

The push and pull of the water soaks her feet, her sandals becoming embedded with the saturated ground beneath them. He can tell just by looking at her how badly she wants to run out to the center of the sea and get lost in it. Run away from all of the problems that seemed to chase her to the ends of the Earth. 

But she's looking for an answer in the water. An answer to the millions of questions that she asks herself and the universe every single day. The ocean may not have a voice, but it's talking back to her. He can see that as clear as day. All he can hope for is that the water finds the answers for her, helps her find a happy medium between what she wants and what she needs. It's unlikely that it will, but nothing is impossible on the edge of the Earth. 

As he nears closer to her, he watches as she closes her eyes. The emotion that the waves respond with is overwhelming. Closing her eyes won't take it away, but it will shut her away from the world for a few moments. There is a truth to be told where the water meets the sand, and it seems as if she's trying to find it herself. 

But closing your eyes doesn't take the feeling of being overwhelmed away, it can only briefly pull you away from it until you regain your bearings and face it. 

She was finding a place to let go. 

Joyce must have sensed that he was there because her posture shifts and her eyelids begin to open. From what he can tell, the beach had been empty until he found her. Maybe that was what she had been counting on; privacy. 

For the first time since arriving, he sees her face in pure daylight. The lines on her skin from the magnitude of stress she had once faced were beginning to fade. Her complexion was no longer alabaster pale, but instead a soft peach color that had been so obviously caused by the exposure to the sun. Her shoulders don't hold as much tension as they once did when she would stand upright. And somehow, the shade of brown that her eyes once were had started to lighten up. 

She looks healthy. She looks _happy._

"Waves crashing and roaring at the shore are proof that something as vast and deep as the sea also needs an end to break down for comfort... and you are just a human." she recites the poem quietly, dragging her eyes away from him as she does. The silence hangs over them for a moment while she takes a deep breath of the ocean air. "My dad used to read me that poem every single time we'd come to the beach." 

Hopper stays silent, bowing his head as he moves to stand next to her. He has no words for this moment, but he doesn't need any either. All he can do is stand and watch her inspect the mighty Atlantic. She's looking for something other than answers, he just isn't sure what it is yet.

"I made a sacrifice," she starts to speak in a whisper, refusing to look him in the eyes just yet. "I spent every waking moment debating on whether or not I was making the right choice. I weighed every pro and con I could possibly pick apart, and yet it still came down to sacrifice. Some parts felt selfish, some parts felt like they were an only hope to finding my rhythm in life again... But I did what I had to do." 

"I know." Hopper breaths his words, hoping that his affirmation can bring her some sort of comfort. 

"I couldn't breathe anymore, Hop." she shakes her head softly, a subtle sadness clouding her features. "I couldn't breathe and I was drowning. There was no place to turn, no inch of Hawkins left that could bring me any comfort. I just... I ran as fast as I could when I finally felt like I was ready to suffocate to death." 

Her testimonial sent a dagger into his chest, striking him where it hurt the most. He had tried. God, he had tried so fucking hard to be her comfort. To be her safe place. But sometimes home doesn't feel like home anymore and he could no longer bring her the consolation that she had needed. 

"I get it Joy. I really do," he whispers, placing her his hand on her shoulder. She finally turns to look at him, a lost look in her eyes that still hold an ounce of hope inside of them. Her hand comes up to cover his as she leans into his chest. 

"When I lost Sara..." he exhales, trying to regain his composure in order to finish his sentence in one piece. "I thought I had lost it all. I _had_ lost it all. Felt like..." His head shakes softly. "Felt like I'd never get my own life back after losing hers. All I wanted to do was run, but there was nowhere to run to. Hawkins was it for me, that was where I could run to." 

He hoped that his words were enough to convince her that he _wanted_ to support her. He was trying with all of his might to let go of the anger and stand behind her in support as she turned her back to that chapter of her life. It hurt too much though. It hurt more than he could comprehend. 

"I... I didn't want to leave, Hop." her words filled with conviction, trying to convince him it was the truth no matter how his mind distorted it. "It's like I wanted to but I didn't want to. I wanted things to go back to normal, but that wasn't going to happen." her doe eyes stared up at him, threatening to well up with tears despite her trying to hold them back. "I could've either sat around in denial while pretending nothing bad was ever going to happen again, or I could take action and _make sure_ that nothing bad was going to happen again."

The silence began to fill the paper-thin space between them again. She listened to the thrum of his heartbeat against her ear as she leaned back into him again. She thought for sure that he would never understand her logic despite her efforts of trying to explain it. They were two different sides of the same coin. She had made one of two decisions to leave, he had made the other to stay. Now, they were just left with the aftermath that the hurricane of problems had left them. 

"I never meant to hurt you." his soft admission came from deep inside of his chest, her ears picking up every vibrato of his voice as he spoke. Without looking, she could already tell that he had closed his eyes and let the guilt seep into him. He knew what he had said the night before, and he knew that he had pushed passed an unspoken boundary that wasn't meant to be crossed. 

"I know." she breathed.

"It's just... " his voice cracked as he tried not to let the emotion he was feeling fill his lungs. "I took it personally... when you left."

She pulled away from leaning against him to look in his eyes once more. The disbelief in her expression wasn't threatening, more like she was shocked that he had perceived her actions in a way they hadn't been meant to be perceived. "Hopper... it was nothing against you." she tried to hold back the tears that had threatened to spill.

"I know. I know that now," he ran his calloused hand gently through her hair as he stared down to meet her gaze. He saw the pain hidden behind her eyes, he had seen it many times before. Deep down, he knew that pain inside of her would never go away until she faced it instead of running from it. "Now I'm just trying to come to terms with knowing that. I had so many selfish thoughts and... and I let them eat me alive after you left." 

Her lip quivered as her jaw fell slightly slack. She knew what he meant, she had just never thought of it in any way as it affecting him on a personal level. 

"I had a choice to make, Hop." an audible gulp came as she turned to look back out at the ocean. His eyes were too blue right now, she was drowning in them and she wouldn't be able to feel the air in her lungs if she stared at him any longer. Her teeth nipped at her lower lip while she searched for the right words that would never come. "I had a choice that needed to be made, and... no matter what I chose, I would be losing something in the end. It was either my son's life or it was ours. Every personal relationship, friendship, and memory made in Hawkins, or it was my son. I felt stupid for even debating it because to anybody else, it would've been a no-brainer." 

 "But you're not 'anybody else'." Hopper sighed, trying as hard as he could to understand it completely. He knew what she meant. He knew that she would give her last breath in order to protect her kids. He just couldn't bring himself to face her choice and the wounds they left. Gently, he pulled her closer, trying to look her in the eyes. "Look at me."

His words sent chills down her spine, barely even inches away from him as she stared into his deep blue eyes. She watched his lips as he ground the words out forcefully. "You did what you had to do. What any parent would've done."

Her eyes focused towards his lips, waiting for more words to come while the ones he already said begun to dawn on her. Slowly but surely, she nods in acknowledgment to his words. And for the first time in six months, she believed that it was the truth. 

_She did what she had to do._

Feeling the rise and fall of his breathing against her own chest, she wondered if she'd ever feel at home if she were anywhere without him. The scent of him made her homesick for a place she wasn't sure existed. Maybe that place existed anywhere that she was able to breathe the same air as him. Maybe she had been running, trying to find a new home when one was right in front of her. 

He was trying, that was what mattered the most. He was trying to support her even though she knew it was killing him. She could see it, she wasn't as naïve as most people tried to pass her off to be. She knew that her actions had hurt him. She knew that he did not accept change very well. He was a difficult man, but not unpleasable. And certainly not unlovable. But a difficult man, yes. 

They say that sometimes, with the change of the waves you find your true direction. Maybe that wasn't true. The waves didn't change their own direction, the people that they washed up upon did. The waves knew their destination, always finding their way back to wherever they were meant to be. As soon as they did, they washed back out to find their way back home. The sand was simply a home-base for them, allowing them a place to break before returning to their never-ending journey. 

She'd be certain that applied for her as well, but she wasn't quite sure that she'd ever want to return to the never-ending journey that was waiting for her outside of the sandy beaches. Maybe that life wasn't for her anymore. 

Maybe it never was. 


	3. Chapter Three - Temporary Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopper meets one of Joyce's closest family friends. The four of them share a special evening.
> 
> Song of the chapter: Pitter-Pat by Erin McCarley

She thought about the words he had spoken for a while. Repeating in her head like a soundtrack on loop. She replayed every word, every touch, every shell on the ground. Every small and remarkable detail would be forever etched into her memory. She was overthinking it. She always did. 

But the look in his eyes had been so sincere, even though they hadn't exactly been matching up with his words and actions. His actions had spoken of resentment and pain, but that damn glitter in his eye; that was where the truth was hiding. Hiding in the one place where others wouldn't even think to look. Between the lines. 

He understood. 

His words didn't. His eyes did. 

Sometimes she wondered if he was two people sharing the same body. One-half stubborn and vindictive, the other half softer and empathetic. A fraction of him made up of trauma, and the other fraction acting as the parts of him that weren't broken just yet. The pain had eaten away at the fragments of him that hadn't been scarred yet; untouched by the cruelty of the world. He was running out of the portions that went undamaged... slowly, but surely.

With the amount of time they had spent together in the past, she knew exactly where to look within him in order to find what she needed to see. The pieces of him that truly did understand her and support her. They were carefully hidden behind concrete walls that he had erected in order to protect the parts of himself undamaged. When the wind was blowing just right and the sun could reflect off of him, she was able to see the cracks in the façade and find what she came searching for. 

He was a good man trapped inside of a bad world. A good person who just happened to survive through bad things. 

But the harder that she had to search for the support that lies within him, the more she wondered if it was worth it. If he couldn't wear on the outside what he did on the inside, was he an honest man? If he couldn't own up to his faults, where was his truthfulness? 

It was hiding. It was always hiding. Somewhere that nobody could hurt him. Deep inside, buried so far down that he had to protect it at all costs. He had been so busy hiding behind his titanium armor that he had pushed away everybody else in the process. Except for her. She was the only exception. It took effort and it took vulnerability, but when he wanted to, he allowed himself to stand exposed in front of her. No armor, no weapons, no steel barriers to protect himself. He was allowing her the opportunity to hurt him.

Because he knew she wouldn't. 

That was where his honesty lies; in the way that he gave away his protection to show her his true colors. In the way he'd fight to the death to protect his vulnerability if it were anybody other than Joyce. 

Jim Hopper was a good man, but a damaged one. 

He knew she wouldn't intentionally hurt him, yet she had through actions that weren't deliberate. She hurt him in the waves of movement she had to make to protect other values. In order to protect her family and their lives, she had to hurt him. It was just another sacrifice that nearly killed her to make it. Everything she had ever loved that was prioritized after her children had to be sacrificed. _Everything._

Which left her feeling nearly moronic that she had even debated it to begin with. Until she realized that it wasn't just material things that would be sacrificed, it was everything in between as well. Friendships, relationships, opportunities. Yet the guilt still burned all the same. 

She wanted to hear his words when he told her that he understood the difficulty behind her choice. She begged herself to believe that he knew where she was coming from. How could she though? What mother would give a second thought to keeping her children in danger because of everything else that was at risk if she hadn't? How could he possibly believe that her contemplation didn't make her a bad person, or worse, a bad mother? 

His atonement towards her actions was one that came from an undamaged part of himself. The small, nearly invisible side of him that wasn't riddled with damage. The untampered side of him that she tried so hard to see all the time. 

Somewhere deep inside was the child-like version of himself that he hadn't given up on yet. A version that still knew right from wrong. Still saw the good in the world and shook off the bad. The one whose eyes were still able to appreciate saturated colors of life instead of seeing everything in tones of depressing grey. 

He spent his entire life building walls; brick by brick and bruise by bruise. 

But maybe she wasn't the one who was supposed to break them down. Maybe she wasn't worthy enough to be the one who saved him from himself. 

 

* * *

 

 

Elle had forgotten to pack a sweatshirt. Although he had reminded her at least twelve times to pack one, she had forgotten. She had been so persistent that she wanted to pack her own clothes since this was her birthday vacation. Hopper knew he should've done it himself, but was more interested in avoiding an argument with the headstrong girl and let her do it on her own. In the back of his mind, he knew that this would be her charade in order to get him to buy her a souvenir sweatshirt to show off to her friends. 

While Joyce was back at the apartment preparing lunch for the group, he was traveling around the shopping village while looking for a suitable sweater for Elle. 

Joyce had needed time alone, which is what she really meant when she told him that he should take a trip to the beach village shopping center. Presumably, to process the words that he had spoken during their moment on the beach that morning. 

The smaller things had been hitting her harder lately. Even the simplest of words, nearly knocking her off of her feet. She had been like that for a while now; after the events of '84, he couldn't blame her. 

She was trying to heal. So much damage and destruction had overwhelmed her life, she needed silence. Somewhere to escape into her own mind, at least for a little while. That was what he was giving her while running errands... a moment of space. 

Maybe he had said too much, stressed her out beyond repair. _No._ She was resilient, she always had been ever since childhood. Worst case scenario, she just needed to adjust to having him back in her life, even if it was only temporary. 

Temporary. That word stung. 

When Will had first gone missing, every moment spent with Joyce was temporary. Nobody had expected him to stick around the Byers family for a moment longer after Will was brought home. Except, he had. He became a normal occurrence in their lives, as well as they did in his life. It went unspoken, but they provided healing for each other after that hellish week. A shoulder to cry on, a cigarette to share, and a friend to lean on. It had become permanent.

At least, that was until six months ago. 

Overnight, their attachment to each other had shifted from permanent to temporary. Maybe it was never permanent to begin with; maybe her leaving was just ripping the band-aid off and moving on. Maybe she didn't want him as a permanent piece of her life. 

But now he was temporary once again. Another puzzle piece of himself that felt as if it had been sucked into the black hole. She was gone, but she wasn't. The black hole hadn't gotten to her, it had just moved her so far out of reach that she might as well have been gone forever. He didn't want to be temporary anymore, but he wasn't exactly sure about what he wanted to be either. 

Lost in his thoughts, Hopper mindlessly wandered around Kennedy Outfitters, which Joyce had recommended to him. The store wasn't too busy, just a few lone people browsing along the clothing and souvenirs. 

It amazed him that no matter where he went, the smell of saltwater in the air could not be drowned out. The breeze had filled every space on the island, calming the nerves of everybody in its path. No amount of obnoxious Avon perfume could seem to wash it out... which the woman at the counter seemed to be wearing in spades. 

"Can I help you find anything sir?" the woman asked, her thick southern accent hitting his ears. She was short than Joyce, mid-sixties, and a smile that could light up a room. "You're looking in the girl's section, now that pink blouse that you're eyeing is lovely but I don't think it's going to fit you." 

He laughs from his chest for the first time in a long time. "Actually, I'm looking for a hoodie for my daughter. She didn't think to pack one." 

The woman pauses for a second, inspecting him up and down. "You look awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?" Her eyes squint; as if she's looking for something that she can't quite put her finger on.

"I-I've never been here before. Visiting a friend," he responds.

The woman stops to think again, leaving an awkward silence over them before the sudden realization hits her. "Hold the phone! I know where I know you from! You're the handsome man who's photo is on Joyce's mantle! Jim, right?" 

Hopper's eyes widen with shock, another smile forming within the lines of his cheeks. "I didn't see that photo, but yes that's me. You know Joyce, how?" He thought back to when Joyce had recommended this shop and the sly grin she had worn, she must've known what he would be getting himself into. 

"Well, she's only my best employee and favorite neighbor! Honest to goodness, I hadn't seen that girl since she was fifteen years old and yea high, not that she's any taller now." Hopper snorts at the woman's remark. "But then she just strolls back in here twenty years later having had two kids and a whole life behind her. Says she's moving down here to start fresh. I'll be damned, I would've sent her right back where she came from if I had known she had such a catch of a man back home waiting for her." 

The wind is instantly kicked out of Hopper's lungs. He hadn't come prepared for the woman's blunt and brutal honesty. Scratching the back of his head, he tried to think of a response that wouldn't put him in the line of fire.

"Me and— Joyce and I aren't... _together._ "

" _Aren't together?_ " The woman spat the incredulous words out, a deep laugh following. "Who you tryna' convince? Me or yourself? Anyways, it's none of my business. Now, I've seen pictures of that beautiful daughter of yours, Joyce showed me when she moved in down the street from me. Ellie is it? She's probably a medium kid's size, right? This one should fit her perfectly." While speaking a mile a minute, the woman pulled a purple zip-up hoodie with the island logo off of the rack, handing it to Hopper. 

"I uh... I didn't catch your name." 

"Ruth Kennedy. Now, that sweater is on the house as long as you remind Joyce that dinner is at my house on Thursday, six o'clock." the woman smiled, folding the sweater and tucking it neatly into a bag. 

"Are you sure? I mean, I can pay for it," he replied, already reaching for his wallet from his back pocket. 

"No! Not a chance. Joycie is already a lifesaver around here, a present for her _friend_ is nothing... Take it, it's on me." the woman nearly shooed him out the door without him dropping a dime on a jacket that cost nearly thirty-five dollars. 

 

* * *

 

 

His photo was there, just like Ruth had said it was. Right on top of the fireplace mantle. It wasn't a photo he had seen before, a candid probably taken courtesy of Jonathan. Although he hadn't seen it before, he remembered the day it was taken as if it were yesterday. 

A smile was plastered on his face, a true and sincere smile. They had been sitting on an old picnic bench down by the lake near his trailer. Elle had told him some dumb joke that Dustin had relayed to her. He was laughing, Elle was laughing, and the sun's glare had shone down on them through the lens of the camera. Joyce was in the background, throwing a frisbee back and forth with Will. He could barely make them out as his and Elle's smiles were the main subject of the photo. 

That had been a happy day. One of the happiest he could remember from the last year and a half. If he closed his eyes tight enough, he could almost feel himself being taken back to that moment. 

It had been a sunny April day, if not the first sunny day of the new year. They had been waiting all winter for a perfect day to spend in the sun by the lake, and April 14th had been kind to them. The world was a little more light and airy that day, no such harshness that had seemed to follow them everywhere. _No._ No anger or stress had reigned over that day. Just the gentle breeze blowing against the tall pine trees. 

They had fired up the grill, throwing on some hotdogs and hamburgers while they spent the day just enjoying each other's company. It was a few weeks before Joyce had announced to Hopper that she planned on leaving that life behind. There were no monsters, no death and decay, just memories. Just the five of them enjoying a rare moment in time without any pain.

His fingers ghosted over the carved wooden frame, picking it up off of its place on the mantlepiece. That life felt so far away now. Memories buried in their respective graves of the life she chose not to take with her. 

He wondered how Joyce had explained that day to Ruth. If she told the older woman that the thoughts on her mind in that very picture were of getting the hell out of dodge. He wondered if she told the woman the true story; the unredacted and unadulterated version that she had been forced to bury in a mountain of non-disclosures. Not that the older woman would believe a word she said. No, she probably just glossed it over as she did with everybody else. _He was kidnapped, we saved him, end of story._

He wondered if Joyce mentioned Bob, and how he had been an imperative tool in saving their lives. A crucial superhero in a normal man's clothing, allowing the kids and their families a second chance at life by sacrificing his own. How just before he took his last and final breath, his hand reached out and begged Joyce to save him... and how Hopper refused to allow her to run back in and do just that. 

His sacrifice, every life that man had saved was now equivalent to a gravestone. Nobody would speak of what happened that day or even that week. Nobody would risk their own ass to leave behind a better memory for Bob. 

Maybe that's why Joyce left. Maybe she just couldn't cope with being haunted by a headstone that told the surrounding world of her failures and faults. A man unburdened by the secrets of her life, now a man six feet under.  

A million maybes, one solid answer that he hadn't been able to find yet no matter how loud Joyce could scream it at him.

"I see you met Ruth." Joyce's voice nearly startled him, coming up from behind him. He set the photo back down on at its spot on the mantle before turning to face her. She had a soft smile on her face as she indicated that she saw the Kennedy Outfitters bag on the couch.

"Yeah. Real... _vibrant_ , that one," he replies quietly, scratching the back of his head as he tried to think of a way to kill the awkwardness.

Joyce laughed softly, moving to sit down on the couch that he stood across from. "You should try working with her... and living near her... and growing up near her." 

"I lived around you long enough to get a taste of what that's like." he retorted as he moved to sit next to her on the sofa. 

"Ha ha," came the unenthusiastic response followed by a punch to his shoulder.

"She said she knew you when you were a kid. Also to mention that Thursday night, we're expected for dinner at her house." as the words left his lips, he laid his head back against the cushions and tried to relax the tense muscles in his neck. He was increasingly close to Joyce, leaving barely an inch of personal space between the two of them. 

"Her and her husband, Henry, they're my god-parents. They were close friends with my parents long before I was even born." Joyce spoke, Hopper watching her hand gestures out of the corner of his eyes. "They would spend summers here with my parents, they met through the historical society. Ruth is a good woman, I'd trust her with my life."

"I would too. Her mouth runs a mile a minute, she could probably talk her way out of any trouble she's in." 

Joyce buckles her chest as she laughs. She missed this. The small and insignificant banter between herself and Hopper. "She's always been good to me. My mother was a drunk, Ruth was there for me when my own mother wasn't. Not only that, but she's pretty lenient about work and the paychecks are more than I'd ever make at Melvalds. She takes good care of us."

"She reminds me of Flo. Except Flo doesn't reek of that southern hospitality." his head lolls to the side, turning to look at Joyce and the easy smile resting on her face. "Wait a second. Where are the kids?" 

"Out riding their bikes," Joyce responds simply. "The island has a bike path, I told them not to go too far out but Will knows his way around already so they'll be fine."

Hopper sits up, taken over by surprise. _"They'll be fine?"_ he mocks, his face contorting into a grin. "I can't remember the last time you've said those words. Who are you and what have you done to Joyce?"

She shrugs, resting her hands on her stomach while giving him an expressionless look. "I already told you, Hop. I trust this place enough to allow Will the freedom he needs. No more risk, no more smothering." 

He shakes his head, exasperated by the new and reinvented Joyce who is sitting right next to him. It took work to pick his mind and try to remember the last time she had lived life with such ease. It must've been as long ago as high school for him to witness her attitude in such a manner. It was... refreshing?

Leaning back down into the couch, they sat in silence. No words to be spoken, no comments of anecdotes. Just the silent feeling of having someone nearby for company sake. In a weird way, he almost missed the old Joyce. The version of her that hovered and played the role of a helicopter parent just to put her own mind at ease. Although, it'd be selfish for him to miss that side of her. It had eaten away at her for quite some time, she deserved the new and improved life that she was living out here. She deserved to take a deep breath and actually feel the stress melt away, rather than just pretend she could feel herself de-stressing. 

It felt as if they had traded places. She was living care-free while back at home, he was making sure that Elle was monitored and safe at all times. He was hiding from the demons that once haunted Joyce. He'd be lying if he said he wouldn't want it any other way. He didn't like it, but he sure as hell could handle it more than Joyce could. He had the brawns and the training in order to protect Elle, not to mention that the kid could protect herself. For fuck's sake, she was built to be a weapon. It was more about keeping her out of trouble now. 

Just like Will, Elle needed a life to live. Hopper told himself that he needed to grant her some leniency in order for her to grow into the person that she never had the opportunity to. But he could do that from home, whereas Joyce couldn't. She just couldn't. The anxiety and stress of staying put in a place where everything bad happened, she couldn't take it. Elle could have the life she deserved in Hawkins, but Will could only have that on the island. Away from the bad people and monsters, that was where he could grow. 

As far as Hopper knew, Will hadn't had any episodes since moving. If he did, Joyce probably would've called him immediately and tried to figure out what to do. That was where their stroke of luck kicked in. He was healing here. No looming danger or threats. The monsters, they wouldn't be able to find him here... hopefully.

Deep down, he held a sense of pride for Joyce. Not that the pride was his to claim, her bravery was her own. But she had done what most people couldn't even fathom doing. She had faced every inch of hell to save her child. She had combed through miles of treacherous tunnels to find him just based on the hunch that Will thought he was dying somewhere down there. But more importantly, she had done what she needed to do to protect her kids. Some would call it a freak accident and stay homebound, but she had gone the extra mile and moved them away from it all. 

She was brave, he was proud, but he still hated just how badly it hurt to go on without her. 

"You're incredible," he whispered almost inaudibly, finally breaking the silence that hung over them. 

Joyce was instantly pulled out of whatever thought had been occupying her mind. Her expression twisted from blank to almost concerned as she slowly turned to look at him. She wore a soft frown once with her lip quivering as she stared at him for a passing moment. 

"What?" she breathed. 

"You're incredible," he repeated, looking at her with a soft sadness that had taken over the lines of his face more frequently. She wasn't told that enough. She was incredible. She was strong and courageous and a hell of a mother. Her strength showed no bounds when it came to making hard, life-changing decisions.  

Her eyes moved down to focus on his lips, almost as if she needed to read them to believe his words. The look on her face continued to shift, going through the motions as she processed his words. "Thank you," she spoke almost in disbelief, completely thrown off guard by his admiration. 

As if the clock had stopped ticking, the moment left them there; stuck in time. She stared at him, he stared back. No words, no actions, just a moment frozen solid. The silence was thick between them, only being filled by the sound of crashing waves outside of the open living room window. 

 

* * *

 

 

The sun had finally settled below the shoreline for the night. The waves had descended out into the sea before they would rush back in for the inevitable high tide. The salt was thick in the air, filling every breath their lungs could take. A chilly breeze had blown its way over the sand and the water, cooling off the heat of the day. 

Joyce couldn't remember the last time she had sat around a campfire with marshmallows at the end of a twig. Yet, here she was. Hopper had recommended ending their first night on the island with an evening campfire on the sandy shores. Each of them had bundled up with blankets and jackets while carrying camping chairs and s'mores ingredients. The night had been perfect for it, which was a surprise for a late November evening where the chilly air would've usually bitten their skin too hard for them to stay. 

Instead, the humidity began to decrease and the village had tucked in for the night, leaving miles of beach for them to have all to themselves. Hopper had dug a makeshift cup holder in the sand for his beer can, earning a laugh from the rest of them for his creativity. 

The stars in the sky surrounding them shimmered, causing Elle to feel the need to point out each one she could recognize. Ever since she stumbled upon one of Sara's old outer-space books, she had been fascinated. She swore she could see the Spica star, but Will argued that the clouds were covering most visible stars up tonight. Hopper broke up the argument by pointing out the big dipper, which pulled both of their attentions and kept them from bickering.

While Hopper and the kids were busy pointing out which stars were which, Joyce became lost in her thoughts. She never once imagined that this would be her life. She never once thought that one day, she'd be sitting on a beach at nearly ten o'clock at night, three out of four of the people she loved the most enjoying the night sky. Long ago, she had never envisioned that there would be life anything outside of Lonnie. He had spent most of his time filling her head with lies about how useless she was. But she wasn't. If she was useless, she wouldn't have been sitting exactly where she is, enjoying an ordinary and mundane moment of life. 

If she had been told in her teenage years what she would one day endure, she would've questioned the sanity of whoever had told her such nonsense. But if she had been told that more than two decades later she'd be sitting on a beach with Jim Hopper and two out of the three kids that stole her heart, she would've never believed it. 

Right in front of her, was the core of her existence. Those who kept her alive and whole. She's almost positive that without them, she would've fallen to dust on the ground. She had seen so much, lived too many hells, yet, here she was. A place that could easily be mistaken for Heaven. The sound of waves breaking onto the sand, the smell of the ocean in the air. No, not mistaken, this _was_ Heaven. 

It had to be. 

If this wasn't Heaven, then Heaven was overrated.

When she had first arrived at her new home, she had tried so hard to let the riptide wash away the pain and suffering that became the cross she bore. It had become enmeshed into her at that point. There was no ridding herself of the trauma she had survived, there was no resilience. In a way, she had come here to die. Yet, the sea that stood before her had revived her. It had fueled her bones with newfound confidence, a home that felt like home again. The last thing she had expected when she was ready to bury the hatchet of her life was that the world would refuse, turn her away and build her back up again. 

She couldn't have told you with entire honesty that she was happy in the beginning, or even closer to where she was now. She had so much to be happy about, but the sadness seemed to always overrule it. Her boys were alive and safe. Hopper and Elle had started building a family within each other. Jonathan was off living his life in NYU as he had always dreamed. She was so blessed. But at the same time, she had seen the cruelty of the universe take over her life. She had heard Will's frantic voice calling to save her. She had seen Bob's lifeless body being torn to shreds. She had seen it all. 

But telling herself that it could be worse was the same as telling herself it could be better. 

So she allowed herself to feel the sadness as well as rejoice in the blessing that parts of her life had been spared from the hurricane of trauma. A few times she had wondered if she would ever feel the happiness again, and even more often she had believed that she wouldn't. Yet, right in the flesh, her happiness was laid in front of her. The kids, the man who had undoubtedly taken up residence in her life, and the ocean always beneath her feet. 

She was happy. 

And the parts of her that never expected to feel happy again had cried tears of joy within her. 

Taking a sip from her own can of beer, she watched Hopper throw Elle over his shoulder and begin to carry her out to the shore. She kicked and screamed with laughter as he threatened to drop her dead center in the middle of the ocean. Will was laughing, Elle was laughing, Hop was laughing. In the midst of it, Joyce even felt herself laughing. 

She had watched him grow into being a father again. It was beautiful. He had shed his cocoon of his own pain and torture to become the free and fearless butterfly that his daughter needed to be. She needed him to be a father, something she did not have the luxury of having since birth. Those two, they brought out something within each other. A fresh start and unconditional love, even if they were both rough around the edges. They needed each other. 

Joyce had never again expected to see Hopper so... well, _domestic_. It was her belief that once Sara had passed, Jim would never be able to reach that level of liveliness again. She was wrong, and she'd admit that to any judge and jury that would listen. She had been oh so wrong and so proud of it too. She had underestimated the resilience of Jim Hopper, and he had proved her and everybody else wrong. Because at heart, he always would be a father. The pill pushing drunk he had once been was not the real him. Just as the trauma she had endured had not been the definition of her. 

At heart, that was who you truly were. At heart, Joyce was happy. At heart, Hopper was a father, and the world could kiss their ass if they believed otherwise. 


	4. Chapter Four - Chapel Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce grapples with her past while spending the day with Hopper, and Ruth helps her through it.
> 
>  
> 
> Song of the chapter: Hospital Hymns by Corey Kilgannon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a little bit shorter!

Spanish moss trees. The island had been filled with them, especially the historic district. Everywhere you turn, a tree with a trunk well beyond your years was staring you down from above. But Spanish moss trees weren't average trees. From their branches hung long strands of natural wires, dressing and framing the twigs with decoration. 

_"It's not Spanish, and it's not moss, it's actually part of the pineapple family."_

Her father had repeated that line to her more than she could count. Every time he spoke of the Spanish moss, she felt her heart swell with the pride of being home. This was her home. She remembers being a little girl, four or five at the most when her father would lift her up on his shoulders so she could touch the strands that blew in the wind. 

It reminded her of angel hair. How it moved effortlessly with the breeze. Aside from the beach, the trees were her favorite part of the island. How they stood so tall and unbreakable, roots buried firmly beneath the soil. As a little girl, she had always dreamed of climbing one of the trees and sitting on an extended branch for hours. Of course, her father would never allow that as he feared she would fall and get hurt.

She thinks about him a lot lately. This had been his home too. 

He'd take her by her hand, leading her down the tabby clam-shell pathways and showing her the historic houses. He'd always been so proud to show her the buildings that he had helped restore. The Island had wanted to renovate the still-standing cottages that gave the island it's personality. He'd walk her through each of the buildings, explaining every detail to her in amazement. 

Faith Chapel, that had always been her favorite. Terracotta gargoyles guarded the tall but humble tower. She remembered how her father explained to her that Jekyll Club members were required to attend church service every Sunday, thus they built Faith Chapel to accommodate the growing population. 

She remembered every detail about the building, nearly thirty years later. Even the Tiffany stained glass had names. 'David's Window,' was one of them. She remembered how many times she had spent peering out from it, trying to see the outside world in different shades of colors through the glass. 

Not many people were allowed into the Chapel at their own volition after it had been purchased by the state, but on a really good day, her father was able to procure the keys and allow them to tour in silence. God, she must've spent hours in there, roaming around and enjoying the architecture. Just allowing herself to get lost within the beauty of it.

She never thought that well over thirty years later, she'd be standing within those very walls once again. It was bittersweet. Her father had long since passed, but she knew he would've been proud to see her carrying on his legacy through the children she loved most. He would've loved seeing Will's face light up just as Joyce's once had. He would've absolutely loved it. 

Will had begged that morning to show Hopper and Elle the sites. She had shown him around when they first arrived, and although he was still furious with his mother for moving them, he was enthralled by the vintage buildings and cottages. Of course, she could never say no to a tour around the district that she had been so proud of. 

As soon as they entered the church, Will dragged their guests off, eager to show them his favorite parts of the building. He reminded her so much of herself, it nearly knocked her off of her feet. Lifetimes ago, she had still worn the same sparkling eye grin that he was wearing now. The kid still had a glimmer of hope inside of him, even after everything he had gone through. 

The group had left her behind to get stuck in her own thoughts as she reunited with the place she had come to love so much. Her fingertips ghosted over one of the sturdy wooden pews, allowing her brain to flood with memories she wasn't aware she still had. All these years, all of the loss and tragedy, and this building still stood. Maybe it had been waiting for her to return, to thrive off of the child-like eccentricity that she once had.

Maybe things hadn't changed all that much. She was many years older, wearing her scars like badges of honor, experiencing sides of life that nobody should ever have to survive through. Yet, somewhere inside of her was the young and bubbly Joycie Horowitz who dreamed of returning to the island every summer as soon as school let out. 

That little girl felt so far away right now. 

Hopper had said something to her on the night he arrived, and it stuck with her. She hadn't just come here for Will's safety, she had come for her own healing. To grieve. A place where she could restore herself and find the empowerment to keep pushing through the hardest days. He was right. She didn't want to admit it, but he was right. This was for herself too. 

No matter how hard she tried to put on a brave face and do what she needed to do for her kids, she still had to take care of herself. She struggled in that area, wondering how she could possibly care an ounce about herself when her kids were in danger. The week that Will was missing, she had barely eaten, slept only when her body forced her to, and wore the same clothes for a week. 

If Will was going to die, she would too. Except, she would force herself to go slower. Wither away under the stress and grief of losing a child and just not being able to push through and continue. But then they had found him. Thank God, they had found him barely alive and just within their reach to save him. She hadn't given up on him, she had given up on herself. He came back stronger, but she was still burdened with the parts of herself that had died within his absence. 

She came here to grieve. She came to grieve for the portions of herself that had left her. But she also came here to heal. Heal the broken pieces of herself that still had resilience left in them. 

As she stared up at the wooden ceiling of the church, she found herself relating to it. This building had survived storms, hurricanes, unfathomable events that should've torn it to the ground. Yet it stood, tall and proud and so unbreakable. She needed to do the same. She needed to allow herself to be a little bit selfish and focus on her own healing. 

The longer she stood inside the building, the more nearly forgotten memories came flooding back to her. She couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in and suffocating her lungs as they did so. Too many reminders of the happy life she once lived. Too many sounds of her young laughter and knowledgable words of her Father. 

She couldn't breathe. 

She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, leave the walls that were reminding her of the past. The door was only a few feet away and the remaining air in her lungs would be just enough to get her out of the goddamn building. She'd catch up to the group later, she needed air.

The doors of the church shut behind her and the fresh air cooled the flush in her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she tried to will alway the anxiety and panic that grew in her stomach. It was too much all at once and she couldn't handle it the way she used to. Not that she was ever good at handling anxiety attacks. 

Fearful that she would pass out, she slowly lowered herself down to sit on the front steps of the church. 

_Take a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth._

It was happening too fast, all of it. One minute she was living a normal life in Hawkins with her two kids, and all within a blink she had watched her life turn into something so foreign. Now she felt surrounded by an emotion that she couldn't quite place. Déjà vu adjacent? She had been here before, lived a life here, yet it seemed so many lifetimes ago. So long ago, it almost felt like a dream. 

Suddenly, she was startled by the opening of the chapel doors behind her.

"Airports have seen more sincere kisses than wedding halls and the walls of hospitals have heard more sincere prayers than the walls of churches." Hopper recited as he moved to sit down next to her on the stoop. "You hit me with a quote on the beach yesterday, thought I'd return the favor."

She stayed silent, not quite sure how to respond. Or if she should respond at all. All she could do was watch him pull out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and light one up between his lips. "You okay?" he mumbled as the cloud of smoke blew from his lips.

God, what a stupid question. 

"No." she admitted for the first time in a very long time. No, she was not okay. She had spent so much time trying to convince everybody that she was okay, but she wasn't. This wasn't a 'fake it till you make it' situation, because she was not okay even though the front she put up said differently. She couldn't remember the last time she was okay.

"Wanna talk about it?" 

She let the question sit with her for a moment. She wasn't sure there was much to talk about. She didn't know what she was feeling, so how could she talk about it? Wordlessly, she plucked the cigarette out of his fingers and took a puff from it. Hopefully, the raw nicotine would course through her veins fast enough to take away the lingering anxiety.

"D'you think I made the right decision?" she asked, her voice coming out deeper and more grim than she had expected it to. 

He let out a scuff, unintentionally rolling his eyes. "Doesn't matter what I think, Joy." 

She turns to look at him, narrowing her eyes with unexpected anger. "Just answer the question, Hopper. Do you think I made the right choice?" God help her, his opinion was one of the only opinions she respected and asked for. What has the world come to? 

The muscles in his jaw tensed with his hesitation to speak. She was staring him down and he'd never be able to escape wordlessly from the conviction in her wide doe eyes. "I don't think there was a right choice to be made. For Christ's sake, there isn't a handbook on dealing with this kind of shit. I'll tell you what you want to hear, but I don't think you'll like the answer I give you if I tell you the truth."

"So..." she gulped. "You think I've made the wrong decision?"

"I didn't say that," he interjected quickly. "What I said was that there was no right or wrong choice. The decision you made was the one that you saw fit. That doesn't mean I like the choice you made, but we've already been over that." 

She stares up at him for a moment, doing all she could to will away the impending tears in her eyes. "Tell me the truth, Hopper. Why were you so angry at me for leaving?" 

"Jesus," he grunts out, growing irritated with the feeling that she was putting him on the stand. He wasn't used to having to testify his feelings and reasoning them either. He wouldn't tell her the truth, not even if there were a gun to his head. His truth would hurt her more than she was already damaged, and he wouldn't be responsible for hurting her more. No. If the time came where he felt as if he were ready to confess, he'd be the first to do so. But that time wasn't today. 

"It doesn't matter why I was angry."

"It matters to me!"

The silence stayed thick between them for the next few passing minutes; neither of them brave enough to speak first. He didn't want to fight with her. Not now, not today, not ever. He had done too much of that with the people he cared about most. He was smart enough to know that the incessant arguing would drive those people away too. He had learned that first-hand several times. 

"You ever been inside of a hospital chapel?" he asked, finally breaking the long-standing silence that held between them.

Joyce shook her head softly. "No." 

"They're terrible." he started, starring off into the distance. "Yet, I spent so much time in there when Sara was sick. I wasn't even sure if I believed in God. We spent a total of 59 days in that hospital, I was inside the chapel at least once for all of them."

Joyce sheepishly stared down at her fidgeting hands, listening carefully to his words.

"It's different in there than it would be in a regular church." he started again. "You walk inside of it and you just know that so many tears have been shed in that room. So many people begging any God that would listen to save the person they loved. Absolutely terrified that they would lose whoever it was that they had been visiting. Every single pew held someone who either shook their first and cursed at God or thanked Him on their knees for his mercy. But no matter who they were, their main objective walking into that room was to ask for their higher power to keep the person they loved safe, alive, and still in their life... and more than often, they were denied that request."

He wasn't sure if she would understand his point, or if he was even making sense at all. But he had given her his answer. That was why he was furious when she left; because all he had ever prayed for in the last year was that she wouldn't go. Once again, he was that heartbroken man lying on a church pew, questioning God as to why the people he loved the most always had to leave. And once again, God had denied him the mercy of allowing things to go right for a change in his life. 

He was angry at God, and therefore he was angry at her as well. Not because she was taking away something he loved, but because _she_ was something he loved. Someone. Maybe more than someone, but instead, _everything._

She wouldn't understand his reference or metaphors, but he had answered her question. He hadn't avoided the truth, simply rewording it just enough that it disguised his honest feelings underneath. Whether or not she figured out his answer, that was up to her. 

Before Joyce could respond, Elle and Will came bursting out the doors in search of the parents. "Mom, mom! Can Elle and I get some ice cream? Please!" he begged, giving her his widest smile.  

Still battling the uneasy feeling in her stomach, Joyce glanced towards Hopper. "Um. You guys take the car and go, I think I'm going to go home." she reached into her bag for her keys, placing them in Hopper's hand.

"You're not coming with us?" Elle asked, her eyes dropping in disappointment.

"I think I'd rather just walk home and be alone for a little bit, sweetie. But how about I make us a nice dinner tonight, how does that sound?" she smiled as she ran her hands through Elle's hair, watching the girl's face grow back into a smile.

"Y'sure?" Hopper asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Yeah, go on. I'll be okay." 

* * *

 

 

Sitting on the porch swing with her legs tucked beneath her, Joyce let the wind graze through her hair. She kept thinking about Hopper's words. Something she found herself doing a lot lately. 

He understood her a lot more than she gave him credit for. He wasn't just in the same boat as her, he was practically the captain of it. Over and over, that man had lived more lives in his forty years than anybody should. He had seen war and bloodshed on foreign ground. He had seen cancer and lived through the death of his own child. He had traveled with Joyce in the Upside Down and again when the demodogs had been on the hunt a year later. 

He was just as much a part of this as she was, and everybody else. 

He was angry because he cared about her. He was angry that it had to come down to the most difficult of choices. He had every fucking right to be angry because every time he tried to build his life back up again, the tide came in and washed it all away. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to come to terms with the fact that he was mad about losing her. Little old Joyce Byers who saw herself as a background character of life. How could he possibly be so bent out of shape over her? Especially after everything he had seen. 

_No... because of it._

What she couldn't seem to understand was that he had seen a partner in her. Maybe not entirely platonic, or maybe not romantic. But she was someone who understood what it felt like to lose everything. She didn't realize that she was the only one who would ever know what his pain felt like. She held the same secrets as him. The same memories and reminders. The same constant sense of impending danger.

And she had left him. She just fucking _left._

He could scream it from the rooftops, but she wouldn't be able to see it until she wanted to. She would continue to burden herself of seeing nothingness in the mirror until she stepped away from the denial. She didn't want to see it from his point of view, not yet. Maybe not ever. Because that would mean admitting it. Admitting that everything that had happened to her was cruel and bad and it wasn't fair but it was real. It had happened, she couldn't change it. Admitting it would mean facing it and dealing with it, and she just wasn't ready. She ran, God, she ran as fast as her feet could take her. 

She ran, but he followed. 

The plethora of problems that she carried on her back didn't scare him away. Her fears and instability hadn't sent him running as it would with most men. He followed her even though she was lost. The blind leading the blind. 

He could chase after a thousand women who would quiver in the knees for him. Yet he chose her. A single mother who saw herself as broken as could be; an anxious mess of stress and worries. A woman who carried more baggage than she needed. She had shown him that much of herself, stripped away of everything that hid her insecurities... and he still chose her. 

They both deserved better lives and they knew it, yet they continued to live the ones they were given. Maybe in different ways; in different places. But they chose to keep living... and he chose to keep fighting for her, even from thousands of miles away. 

Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she didn't want to allow him to choose her. It filled her head with vulnerable thoughts. Was he choosing her because she was his only choice? The only person who he was allowed to share the experience with? If so, she didn't want him to choose her like she was his last resort. 

Maybe he was lonely. Maybe just as lonely as she was. She had loved every minute of his company when they weren't facing life or death situations. But she knew that if she wanted to have his company at the drop of a dime, she would need to be back in Hawkins.

Another sacrifice.

Every day she realized more and more things she had sacrificed. 

The longer the list of her sacrifices became, the more she saw the reasons that Hopper had every right to be angry about. She had single-handedly made the decision to sacrifice something that he just wasn't ready to give up. Something that wasn't hers to give up on her own. 

She had left their friendship with an open ending, hanging by a thread. Giving him the choice of whether or not it was worth pursuing even in her absence. As if it meant nothing to her; just something she would throw away.

But that wasn't true, and she prayed endlessly that Hopper knew that. 

Once again, it came down to sacrificial risk. Leaving him with the choice and status of their partnership in order to protect her son first. He could've easily told her his last goodbyes when she left for good. But he didn't. No matter how many pieces it may have shattered his heart into when she left, he still stood by her. He still spoke with her every chance he could. He wasn't going to let her just be another lifetime of his, lost. 

Every insecure thought in her head told her he might as well have just let her go. Maybe it would have spared him more of the pain that he didn't deserve. The unnecessary pain that she had caused him. 

She had told herself, no matter how hard it would be, that she needed to distance herself from him. She hadn't done the same for Bob, and now he was gone. Elle needed Hopper, she couldn't be responsible for dragging him down as she felt she had done to Bob.

What she didn't know was that Hopper had felt the same way. The black hole had surrounded his life, causing pain in every corner. Joyce's boys needed her, and he wanted her. But need always trumps want. He tried with every ounce of his willpower to keep her at an arm's length to protect her, yet he couldn't fight it anymore. The hugs became tighter, the words became more sincere, and suddenly he couldn't imagine life any differently. To hell with the black hole, he wanted her in his life. 

"You've always been one to think too loudly." a familiar southern voice pulled Joyce from her thoughts, nearly giving her a heart attack in the process.

"Jesus Christ, Ruth. You scared me." she huffs out with a breathless chuckle. 

"I could see you stewing from my kitchen window, figured your door would be unlocked." the woman smiled as she closed the patio door behind her. "Here, brought you this. Thought you might need it." she sat down next to Joyce, handing her an ice-cold glass bottle.

Joyce chokes out a laugh as she looks down at the label. "A Corona? Ruth, it's two in the afternoon." 

"Haven't I taught you anything, sweetheart? It's always five o'clock somewhere. Drink! You're on island time now." the older woman grinned as she settled into the swing next to her. "So, what has got you lookin' as if you've just attended the saddest funeral you've ever seen? C'mon, spill it." 

Joyce sighed, uncapping the bottle and taking a sip. "Just... kinda stuck in my head lately," she replied shortly, turning to look out at the waves that were crashing on the shore. 

"Does it have anything to do with that hunk of a man you've got living in your guest room?" Ruth gave her a devilish smile, wagging her eyebrows as she knew it would make Joyce laugh.

"How do you think Henry would feel if he heard you saying those words?" the younger woman retorted, smiling into her bottle of beer. 

"Look but don't touch has always been the rules. We're not talking about him though, we're talking about you, Miss Joycie Mae. How can you possibly be sad when he's here? I mean, you have been talking about him non stop for the past six months with that unbeatable smile on your face. Is life really that bad now that he's here?" 

The woman made a good point. _If only she knew the whole story._

"I don't know why he's here, Ruth." Joyce breathed her words out softly, her brows knitting as she stared down into her lap. "He should be furious with me for leaving. He _is_ furious with me for leaving. Still, he jumped in the car as soon as he had the time to come out here. Why?" with the question rolling off of her tongue, she looked up with sad eyes towards her neighbor.

"Love makes you do crazy shit, sweet pea." Ruth grinned, patting Joyce's leg.

"It isn't love," Joyce interjected, hoping her words came out sounding at least a little bit truthful. She wasn't sure that love was in the cards right now; at least not as far as she would allow herself to see. 

Ruth let out a guttural laugh, earning her a confused look from Joyce. "If it ain't love, then what is it?"

Joyce grumbled under her breath, trying to figure out a way to weasel out of the woman's blunt honesty. "Ruth... It's complicated. I know what you're getting at, an-and I respect your opinion... but it's not what you think it is."

Ruth took a long deep breath before choosing her words wisely. "Honey," she smiled, pulling Joyce's hand into her own. "Love is complicated. Now, I didn't say that love was romantic. It can be anything because love doesn't have a defining label. But you love 'em. Whether that be as a friend, a brother, or a romantic type of love, that isn't for me to decide. But I guarantee you that the longer you sit and try to deny that it's there, the harder it's going to hit when you can't fight it off anymore. You understand me?" 

Joyce's lip quivered as she nodded softly. Leaning into the woman, she rested her head against Ruth's shoulder. 

"Yeah..." she whispered. "I understand."

Ruth's hand pressed against the back of Joyce's head, a sense of comfort overwhelming her. "The two of y'all got something special between you. From what you've told me, you two have been through hell and back together. Don't throw that all away just because you're afraid of something you haven't even seen yet." 

She hadn't told Ruth the whole story. She had given her some nonsensical side of the story, refurbished to be just legal enough to speak about it. _Will was kidnapped by the same man Elle was kidnapped by. The man got away, but Hopper helped me get Will back and he adopted Elle._ It wasn't exactly untrue, but just within the bounds of falsehood. 

"I'm scared." Joyce breathed the words out before she could stop herself. 

"Scared is good." the older woman responds softly. "Scared means that you've got something to lose, but you're not stupid enough to lose it. Isn't that what your daddy used to tell you when you were a little girl?"

Joyce feels a smile blossom on her lips as she leans her nuzzles her head tighter into Ruth's shoulder. "Yeah. It is."


	5. Chapter Five - Sleeping Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce gets closer with Hopper, while he thinks back to when she left.
> 
>  
> 
> Song of the chapter: The Waves Have Come by Chelsea Wolfe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> few flashback scenes, probably the last time that I do them. Not sure yet.
> 
> ps. sorry for the typos, my Grammarly isn't working well and me and Cait thought we caught them all lol

Hopper was asleep on the other side of the wall, or so she thought. She had tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable or at least quiet her mind enough to drift off to sleep. She had spent the entire day overcome with unexpected emotions, mixed and unreadable. All she knew was that she didn't know where the pain was coming from... but it was killing her.

Dinner had been a quiet affair, nobody speaking too much or too loudly. The kids must've picked up on the vibe, but if they did then they hadn't mentioned it. 

The feeling of culpability had started to creep its way into her chest. This was supposed to be a fun experience for both families, yet it wasn't feeling like that. A sense of dread surrounded them like a dark storm cloud. She was stuck in her head too much and it was affecting everybody around her. 

The bed remained cold no matter how much she twisted and turned over top of it. It was cold and lonely.  _She_  was cold and lonely. Over the years of Lonnie's dodginess, she had found herself getting used to sleeping alone. After a while, there had been no waiting up for her husband to come home while she pretended all was good in the world. She wasn't that naïve. Not anymore at least. 

But this was a different cold and lonely. Wanting nothing more than a warm body next to her to remind her that everything would be okay. Low inside of her belly, she felt a flame of jealousy for the women who didn't have this problem. That wasn't her life, no matter how badly she wished it would be.

That life was far out of reach.

The truth was, she did better on her own. No pressure of trying to to be a Stepford wife, self-conscious about everything she said or did. She could thrive on her own. Her life as a single mother didn't come with that sort of stress. But that was the price she paid by lying in bed by on her own, night after night.

Maybe that was why she enjoyed Hopper's company so much. There were no insecurities or stressors over whether or not she was good enough for him. She was able to be her entire authentic self. No worries, no maintenance, no rejection. Just happiness. She could laugh around him, talk about her fears and dreams. It all came so easy, like second nature. Being friends with him came to her as easy as breathing.

Even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to recall the exact moment things had fallen into place like this. After Will's return, it just became easier and easier to be around him. He stopped checking in on her to make sure she was doing okay, and instead just stopped to be around her.

They found solace in each other after the events of '83. Someone who truly understood what the other was feeling. Not another man on Earth would be able to provide her with that comfort. He had seen it with her, witnessed each and every little detail that seemed so impossible. 

He understood. 

The sheets weren't getting any warmer, and she couldn't stop herself from swinging her feet out from underneath the blankets. She was tired of the change and the sacrifice. Tonight, she was stepping backward in time to have a normal night between the two of them. Just one normal, stress-free night. Was she asking too much?

Wrapped in one of her favorite blankets, she walked down the hall and pressed her ear to his door. His television was on; granted, the volume was nearly silent. She held her forehead against the door for a moment, allowing herself a moment to appreciate the fact that Jim Hopper was in her house, 850 miles away from his home. Barely a few feet away, only a door separating them.

It had been a long six months. A very long and very painful separation that seemed as if it were never going to end. She knew that soon, she would have to face the music and watch him leave her behind as she had done to him. She didn't want to think about that. She couldn't, or she would absolutely throw up. 

But he was here now, and things would be okay.  _She_  would be okay

Raising a soft fist, she knocked and waited. 

"C'mon in." as soon his words hit her hears, she was flushed with an overwhelming sense of relief. Mindlessly, her body had trained itself to relax at the sound of his voice. Maybe it had been a coping mechanism she had developed in the last few years. Understanding that his presence meant safety, and his voice reminded her that he was close by. While his deep vibrato rumble started warming the nerves under her skin, she quietly opened the door and peeked her head in. 

He was lying on the bed, propped up against the headboard with his legs crossed at the ankles. It had been a long time since she had seen him wearing flannel pajamas and a Hawkins P.D. hoodie. Those were his comfort clothes. Some things she still remembered.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, knowing her all too well. He knew that it would be a night where she would get minimal sleep. He knew just based on how her day went. Back in Hawkins, these types of days would normally end in an impromptu invitation to watch a movie with her or share a drink. She'd need him tonight, and he already knew. 

She looked down at the floor as she stood in the doorway. The words ghosting off of her lips, "No."

Giving her a warm smile, he patted at the spot next to him on the bed. "Come. Sit with me. Nothing good on TV this time of night." he chuckled, earning a small grin in return from her. The blanket wrapped around her shoulders dragged against the hardwood floors before she climbed up on the bed and settled in next to him. 

Without saying a word, her eyes moved away from his hands to meet his eyes in return. He had that stupid smirk on his face; the one that was barely visible unless you knew how to spot it. His eyes were darker than usual, narrowing as he looked down at her. "What's got you awake at this hour?" 

She sighed, unsure of how to answer that. So many thoughts were busy flying through her mind, she'd be lucky if she could catch one and actually figure out what was occupying her attention. "I missed this..." she whispers.

"Missed what?" he asks, his stare unrelenting.  _This._  Everything. The easy-going mood between the two of them. She missed it all. She missed him. 

"This," she answers, finally breaking the eye contact. "We would spend entire nights just talking about nothing. We were so in sync... what happened?" 

He thinks about her question for a moment, weighing the balance of good and bad between all of his possible answers. As much time he had spent crucifying her for her decision to move, he also knew that this wasn't the time or place. She needed a friend, not an enemy. 

"I think..." he shook his head, trailing off to find the right words. "I think being apart for a while may have taken a toll on us." his words were filled with a melancholy tone, regretful and shameful. His eyes managed to grow even darker as the soft smile fell from his face. "Things have changed. Maybe not permanently, but I think we're both two different people now than we were the last time we spent time together." 

The silence is thick and she doesn't really know how to respond. She blames herself, she always will. She knows that she has hurt him and she knows there is no cure. There is no remedy for the burn that her departure has left in his chest. 

"I miss you, Joy." the words blurted out, meant to be kept silently inside of his head. As soon as he spoke, he pressed his lips together. Maybe if he closed his eyes and shut his mouth, the words would disappear from thin air as if they hadn't been spoken.

She looks back up at him, staring through her eyelashes. "I miss—" a deep breath she emits interrupts her words, masking the pressure of tears building in her eyes. "I miss you too." she forces herself to chuckle softly, hopefully alleviating the growing tension. 

Her head burrows into the crook of his shoulder, suddenly filling her with a warmth she hadn't felt since she had been in his arms on the beach. A warmth she was so used to feeling back in Hawkins, only to be surprised when it didn't follow her down the map. 

Wordlessly, his hand snakes around her back and pulls her in just a little bit closer.  _Not too much,_  he thinks. He's petrified. God, he's always been so petrified of scaring her off with the smallest touch or the words he says before he thinks them through. It feels good to have her close again. Wait, no. 'Good' is an understatement. 

It feels like home.

This time, she doesn't seem to mind the close contact. A part of him begins to wonder if that was her original intention when coming into his room late at night.  _Fuck,_  he's overthinking it. He always overthinks moments before he can enjoy them. A flaw he could never seem to overcome, even for his own good. 

Through the cracked window of his room, the sound of the waves crashing filled the silence. It seemed as if every time he was left with nothing to say, the waves filled in the narrative for him. Never leaving them in silence for too long. 

The smell of her lotion mixed with the salt water air was intoxicating. Nearly bringing him into a state of vertigo from the familiarity of her presence. It had been so long. So Goddamn long and he had begun to crack within the weeks before making the drive out to see her. He was in withdrawal, trying to survive the detox it would take to find a life without her as a constant.  

He was falling. He was falling oh so hard. 

He had two options. Hit the ground plummeting, or find a way to catch himself mid-air. 

"Can we just... can we talk? Like how we used to? Just a normal conversation?" She wasn't allowing him to fall right now. She may not even have had a clue of what thoughts of his that her words were interrupting. "Just anything. Talk to me like you used to." her voice was near begging; as if she just needed to pretend things were normal for a few minutes to give her enough strength.

Hopper looked back down at her, he could see the pain she was harboring in her eyes. She was tired of pretending. He could see it clear as day. She was sick and tired of pretending that every last hope of sanity she had been chasing was doing her any good. Yes, the sun made her skin glow and the sleep was doing her justice; but underneath it all... underneath every little layer she was beginning to crack. 

His lips fell apart as he stared at her, trying to think of something, _anything_ that would take away the pain. Something that would remind her of the normalcy she had left behind. The kind she still found herself craving "I uh, I caught Mike and Elle in her room with the door closed a few weeks ago. I told her a thousand times at least to keep the door open. I barged right in there, guns blazing, just to see the two of them reading a comic book. Goddamn Wheeler kid smiled at me with this shit-eating grin like he knew what he was doing." 

A small and breathy laugh escaped Joyce's lips while Hopper watched her eyes closely. "I was so mad, but I felt so stupid. They're innocent kids really. At least I think they are. For a couple more years I hope. I just wish she wouldn't rush into something so serious when she barely even knows how much of the world really exists." 

A small sparkle forms in Joyce's tired eyes and he starts to see just how exhausted she really was. Her muscles begin to relax against him, her breathing becoming slower and slower. Gently, he moved to push a piece of her hair out of her face and behind her ear. 

"I like that Max kid that she hangs out with. Fierce as fuck that one. She doesn't let anybody get away with anything. I think she could talk her way out of a problem quicker than Elle could use her powers to get out of whatever deep shit she's stepped in this time. But uh — it's nice to see Elle have an actual girl for a friend. Not that it matters, but she's gonna need one of them once she reaches high school."

With her body pressed up against his side, Joyce fought to keep her eyes open. Eventually, her sheer force of will wasn't enough and her lids drooped closed. His words were softer than anything she had ever heard, and the thrum of his heartbeat against her ear was rocking her to sleep.

"Goodnight, Joyce," he whispered, turning out the lamp next to his bed and resting his head against hers. 

* * *

 

 

_"What can I do, Joyce? What can I say that will possibly convince you to stay here?" his voice was louder than it should be, but he couldn't help it. He was furious. His blood boiled in his veins when he pulled up to see the real estate agent hammering in the 'For Sale' sign in her yard. The truck door of his blazer slammed shut behind him, each footstep growing heavier than the last._

_He thought she was joking when she had said she thought about moving. God, she really meant it? She was leaving. Packets and pamphlets littered her coffee table. He'd never forget the look on her face. Her bottom lip curling into the saddest frown he had ever seen. He thought for sure that he had shards of glass stuck in his palms before he realized that the stabbing pain was formed from his clenched fist; nails digging into his skin._

_"What do you want me to do, Hop? Huh? You want me to sit here and... and what? Just wait? Just wait until it's something else that's imploding our world? I'm not going to sit here and watch my kid be tortured by more monster bullshit!" she screamed back, practically on standing on her toes to reach face to face length with him._

_"Nothing bad is going to happen again, Joyce! We did what we had to do. We got Will, we closed the Gate, the lab was shut down. What else do you fucking want?" his eyes blazed, molten tears threatening to form in his ducts. No, he would absolutely not watch her walk out of his life. Not a fucking chance._

_"I can't fucking take it anymore! Every time I see my own shadow I practically have a heart attack. I can't keep living like this. Will isn't safe here, and neither am I! When are you going to stop being so goddamn naïve about this?" her eyes flashed nearly red with fury. She wasn't going down without a fight, she never did._

_"Running away will not solve your problems, Joyce. It never has before, and it never will! So go ahead, run. Run for your fucking life but don't call me when you reach the edge of the Earth and you find that all of your problems followed you there!" his voice boomed, the vibration of it hitting his ears. It would all go to shit. Every word he said would just be white noise in her head. There was no stopping her. He tried. God, he had tried for weeks to prove to her that everything was safe again and she wouldn't listen._

_Her jaw was clenched so hard, she was almost certain she was going to break a tooth. She was doing what she had to do — ripping the band-aid off. They say it hurts less that way, but that's not true. Not in this case. That couldn't be true, not with the way her eyes burned and her throat locked. But she couldn't think of any other way to tell him. There was no easy way. No leaning into it softly and hoping for the best. No, nothing like that ever worked out in her life. It was a blaze of fury or it was nothing at all._

_She tried to ignore the pain in his eyes, the silent stare while she tried to search for the right words to say. There were none. There never would be any because this whole situation came up from the depths of Hell. But she was doing what she had to do; she was certain of that. She needed to make a decision between what mattered to her more. Her son's life or her own life in Hawkins. Her son's life or a life with her best friend. A home that she had known for a very long time, or a home that she knew would be safe. Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice._

_"You wouldn't understand." her voice came out gravelly, working around the knots that had formed in her throat._

_"Me?" his words were quieter but held much more lethality. "Me out of all people, Joyce? You're going to look me in the eyes and tell me that I don't understand? After every fucking thing we've been through?" he glared down at her with a pointed look, feeling his heart hammering beneath his ribcage._

_"It wasn't your son, Hop." her angry expression broke for a split second, a flash of heartbreak overcoming for just a moment. So quick, he would've missed it if he had blinked. Her lips quivered, her eyes glossing over, and then reverting back to the vehemently livid expression._

_"After everything we've been through... he might as well have been." he spat the words out like poison had touched his tongue._

_He would've done anything to protect those kids, biological or not. She should've known that. She does know that; she just won't admit it. His world was crumbling so quickly, dust falling from his fingertips quicker than he could hold onto it. Everything. Every goddamn thing he had worked so hard to protect, washing away with the pull of the riptide._

_Before she could get another word out, Hopper was gone with the door nearly slamming off the hinges behind him. Each step out towards his car felt like slow motion. The beating of his heart in his ears became deafening. He couldn't hear, he couldn't see, the world was moving so slowly and so quickly all at the same time. He could feel the strings in his heart snapping one by one, torturing him with every breath he took._

_His movements were a blur. Before he knew it, his blazer was speeding down the rainy roads as fast as he could push the pedal down. He wiped away the spilled tears with his sleeve, trying to clear some of his vision for the road in front of him._

_Fuck._

* * *

 

 

The blinding sunlight through the window shined over his eyes, gently bringing him out of his sleep. He tried to keep his mind numb, hoping that he would be able to doze off for a little while longer. It wasn't until he could feel a warm body beside him, a chest rising and falling against the side of his torso. 

_Joyce._

The previous night came back to him in a flood. She had fallen asleep in his arms almost instantly, unable to keep her eyes open for any longer. He had drifted off after her, the scent of her working as a sedative on him. He was out before his head even hit the pillow. 

A small voice in the back of his head told him that he should wake up and sneak out before she wakes up too. Yet, he couldn't find the energy or willpower to move his body away from hers. It was bliss. God, he had waited so long. Spent so many hours of so many days wondering what her face looked like when she was asleep. Her brows had softened, Her eyelashes rested softly on her skin, and he swore he could see a small grin on her face. 

She was stunning.

Unconscious and still in the throes of a much needed deep sleep, she was the definition of beauty. Unrelenting, absolutely breathtaking beauty. 

But she wasn't his. 

She wasn't his to admire. She wasn't his to hold. She wasn't his to love. 

He closed his eyes, trying to will away the stinging in his chest.  _Just a few more minutes._  He just needed to be close to her, to feel her skin on his and to have her so close to him that he would never want to let go. He needed to pretend, even just for a moment that this was his life now too.

The sun's glare leisurely moved up the wall as the minutes passed. The seagulls outside began to cry out in excitement to the new day. The sound of the waves had not stopped since the last time he had paid close attention to them.  _Heaven._

He looked back down at Joyce one more time, searing the picture perfect scene beneath him into his memory. She looked so peaceful. More peaceful than when he arrived, and certainly more than she had yesterday. 

_She isn't yours._

That goddamn voice in the back of his head never shut up. It screamed at him, growing louder as he tried harder to ignore it. Maybe it was right though. Maybe this was wrong of him; to be starring down at someone who made ever vessel in his heart constrict while she felt nothing for him. If she had given any indication that his feelings were requited, he was blind to it. 

 

* * *

 

 

_He had been knocking on her door for at least five minutes. She was home, he knew it. Her car was still in the driveway, and so was that fucking 'For Sale' sign._

_"Joyce, open up! I just wanna talk to you." he tried again, but no response came. "Please, I was stupid, I'm sorry," he called out. He had promised her. God, he fucking promised that he wouldn't do this to her. He told her that he would support her, and he fucked it all up._

_Just before he raised his fist to knock again, the door opened just a crack. Her eyes were red from crying, swollen and fuming angry at him._

_"I'm sorry." he breathed, closing his eyes and shaking his head softly. "I'm sorry. God, I'm fucking sorry. I told you that I wouldn't do this." he scrubbed his face with his palms, ashamed of how his anger and heartbreak got the best of him._

_Slowly, Joyce opened the door wide enough for him to walk in. Her hands were crossed against her chest, still furious with him. He saw her anger falter for only a second, angry to heartbroken and back again. Like a quick flash of lightning, gone before he could even register it._

_His steps were cautious, slowly shutting the door behind him. "I promised I wouldn't do this" he paused. "I just... I let it get the best of me, I'm sorry."_

_She stared at him for a moment, taking in the sight of him. For the first time in a very long time, she was genuinely angry and hurt by him. He had done a lot of shit to her in their lifetime, but this hurt differently. This was low beneath her ribcage, stabbing, shooting pain. Betrayal. Something she hated feeling beyond measure._

_They were friends, and she knew what she was asking of him. She was asking him to let her go, ungrip his hold on her and let her do what she needed to do. But she didn't know how bad it hurt him to do that. She couldn't feel just how badly it was killing him. He wasn't good at this, at letting go of things that held importance to him. He was forced to do that so many times in the past, he couldn't do it again._

_Wordlessly, she moved to grab a pamphlet off of her living room coffee table. She had lived in this place before, a very long time ago. Her childhood summers spent there. It was a safe haven, she could bury her trust in it._

_"This world wasn't made for people like me. This world goes too fast. Too much danger, too much risk." she stopped, handing him the booklet on where her next_ _destination_ _would be. "But this is the one place away from the world. It moves slower. Steadier."_

_He took the booklet from her fingers, forcing himself to look down at the cover of it. Accept it, it's real now. "Jekyll Island, Georgia." he repeated, "It looks... nice."_

_"You don't have to like what I'm doing, Hopper. You really don't. But if you want me in your life at all, you're going to just have to accept that I am done with Hawkins." her words came out slowly, but he could hear the bite in them. She was staring him down, nearly burning a hole in his skin with her gaze._

_It was a tough pill to swallow. Fuck, what wasn't nowadays? He had spent so much time trying to prove to her that he would keep her safe. It wasn't enough and it never would be. Maybe he actually couldn't keep her safe. He had tried so hard to help Will and Joyce after Will's return, and it wasn't enough._

_As much as he wanted to, he wasn't able to_ _guarantee_ _that he could keep them safe for a third time._

_And that was his downfall._

 

* * *

 

 

Pulling himself out of the memory, he realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. Joyce was still sleeping soundly up against the side of his chest, unaware of anything happening in her surroundings. Hopper couldn't breathe. His lungs were closing up faster than he could take in the oxygen he was depriving himself of. 

He understood it now. He was drowning.

He was feeling the same way Joyce had been.

The air in his lungs turning into water, he needed to get out of here. He needed to leave, to  _breathe._

He kept his eyes peeled through the haziness, trying to ignore the stars he was beginning to see behind his eyes. As quickly and quietly as possible, he slipped out of bed and gunned towards the door. His lungs were screaming at him as if he had just ran six miles. 

This was happening too fast. All of it. He couldn't keep staring at the woman beneath him knowing that he wouldn't get to wake up to that every day from this point on. He couldn't. It was too painful. Everything he could ever want was laid out right in front of his eyes. God was taunting him. Some sort of karma for whatever he had done wrong in his past. 

How the hell did they get here? When had he closed his eyes? When did it all change without him allowing himself to see it. Really see it. This wasn't his life. This was Joyce's. This was her home, her life, her existence. He was merely a fly on the wall. Too comfortable. Growing too attached.

Between one heartbeat and the next, he was running out of the back door. He understood now, he understood why Joyce needed the water and the waves. They were calling to him, just as they had done to her. They pointed him in the right direction, a compass of just enough emotion and pain. 

Joyce had gravitated towards the ocean even when she felt like she was drowning. It didn't make a single bit of sense to him until now. Until he couldn't fight it anymore and his feet hit the sand running. Until he physically could not stop himself from speeding closer and closer to the roll of the waves. The atmosphere had reinflated his lungs and he could finally see again.

His eyes stared at the ocean, blue against blue. The wind howled in his ears, ripping and blowing his hair. A mixture of rapping against his eardrums and the intensity of white noise. He heard nothing. He heard everything. The waves splashed violently onto the sand. He could breathe again. God, he could finally breathe.

He stared out beyond the shoreline, unsure of what he was looking for or if he was looking for anything at all. He needed peace, just as Joyce had. It seemed as if she had found it until he showed up. The glow of her skin was fading with every passing minute in his presence. He had brought her old pain back with him from Hawkins. 

But that pain wasn't just for her anymore, it was sitting heavily within his own ribcage. Pounding, destroying, exploding. 

He closed his eyes in an effort to feel the wind pushing against his skin. 

God, she had just wanted to be able to breathe and he hadn't let her do that. But here he stood, stuck within the same shoes she was in, except he was 850 miles away from where her pain originated. 

If what he feels now is anything comparable as to how she felt, he wonders how she had managed to stay in Hawkins for as long as she did. 

The tide was coming in quickly, washing away barely any isle of sand left. Yet, he couldn't move. He couldn't lift his feet from the ground as the water enveloped his ankles in a chokehold. His eyes burned, the saltwater in the thick morning air drying them out faster than he could blink.

This hurt too much. All of it. Every ounce. He was spectating the life he could've once had if only he had tried harder. It was too late now. Right in front of his eyes, but unable to lay a finger on it. He could only watch. 

Watch as everything he wanted was being ripped away from him. 

Eyes peeled back as some sort of sadistic slap from the universe. The devil was in his ear, tormenting him.

_Watch, watch as everything you've ever loved is washed away by the riptide. Watch it, James Hopper, watch as it all floats away just beyond your fingertips._

_Watch._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued!! a tiny bit less drama and just a little more fluff in the next few chapters. just a little ;)


	6. Chapter Six - Linear Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce questions what she's seeking in life, while Ruth has a heart-to-heart with Hopper.
> 
> Song of the chapter: Kettering by The Antlers

She had walked the beach for at least two miles. No direction, no destination, just forward. The tide rolled in and out softly, grazing her ankles with each wave that passed. In her mind, the waves seemed to be the ocean's way of breathing. Guiding her; reminding her.

Inhale, exhale. 

Her eyes stayed forward, focusing on nothing at all. One foot in front of the other, she just kept walking. Every few hundred yards, she'd come across these massive ripples in the drenched sand. A crevice in the golden isle, water running quietly through it. 

The indentation in the ground was a pattern of ridges, swept in design of the water's current. High tide would recede and leave a different pattern behind each time. Like a thumbprint, they were never the same. The smooth walkway would become filled with asymmetrical lines for several yards and then return back to its normal flat surface. 

It reminded her of her life in the most cliche ways possible. 

When she was lucky, time would move smoothly. A few days, a few weeks, sometimes even months. Then, just over the horizon, she could see the bumpy path approaching. Her feet would grow tired of walking through such a rocky spot in life, but she would keep going. She would continue to walk because she knew that if she just kept going, she would find the smooth ground again. The bad days didn't last forever, and neither did the ripples of the sand. 

She had grown tired of the ripples, and therefore became tired of the rough patches of life as well. She was exhausted from battling each and every thought that came into her head. She craved a linear life that she had never been blessed with the ability of having. Most people craved adventure and were washed away with the sensation of wanderlust. That wasn't her. She had seen enough of that in her day. She wanted silence. 

She would absolutely kill for a normal, boring, mundane lifestyle. 

In a way, she had tried to kill everything around her that she knew in order to provide herself with that slow and steadily paced life.

And she thought that was what she would get when she moved.

She wasn't wrong, per se. Her life had slowed down just enough for her to regain her bearings — sort of. Only now, it was too quiet. She never believed in such a thing as too much silence, but she was now living it. Quiet and uneventful seemed to be a life she had only been able to dream of. As quiet as it was, she wasn't able to escape her thoughts.

No matter how silent the room could be, her thoughts were always louder. She hadn't believed Hopper when he told her that her problems would follow her wherever she went. In some sense, he was correct. No matter how far she ran, how fast her feet could carry her, her thoughts were always with her. 

That was why she liked the beach. The sound of the waves seemed to be the only thing that could drown her thoughts out. That was what the water was best at; drowning things. The water made her feel safe; like she was never alone. The sea, it was a weapon made by Earth, yet so subtle and so gently when it wanted to be. 

She would find herself walking for miles and miles on the bad days. She would ask herself how many footprints she believed had been left on this beach, only to be washed away within minutes. The sand had seen so many things, met so many people. So many lives. 

Walking along the edge of the world, she had found a place that would allow her some catharsis. The moment her toes touched the sand, it felt as if any shackles of her distress had been lifted. She couldn't run from her problems, but the water would at least accompany her while she tried to let the pain go. 

She had run when she couldn't take life anymore. Teetering on the edge of self-destruction, she needed a way to end it without ending it. The island, it had a way of halting time. When she was here, she had a hard time believing that any other civilizations existed beyond the bridge. It was it's own little world, quiet and peaceful. 

Although the island felt as if it had everything she needed, it was missing one very important factor.

Hopper. 

He was here now, but he wouldn't be here forever. When that thought crossed her mind, she could only continue to keep walking. Keep leaving footprints in the sand as a reminder that without him, she did still exist. She was not a half of a person without him even though she felt whole when she was with him. When he would leave, she would continue on without him. Her life did not go into limbo when he was no longer within reaching distance.

She just had to convince herself of that. 

Although she hated herself for it, she could feel herself deteriorating with every moment passing that he was still in her presence. She had worked so hard to rebuild her life so far away from where she used to call home. She didn't want a short time spent with him to crumble all of that hard work. She couldn't. 

But he was a walking sensation of nostalgia. Seeing him was a reminder of the last life she had lived. Although she had taken herself out of that situation, that didn't mean that the situation didn't still exist. It did, and he was proof. He was a glaring representation of what she had left behind. A shrine of memories in honor of what she walked away from. With him around, she wasn't able to avoid the fact that Hawkins still existed, and so did every moment that she had spent there. 

She couldn't pretend anymore that she hadn't been homesick a few times within the first months of her departure. Everything she had ever known was rooted deep within Hawkins. Everything she had ever loved, everything that had ever mattered. She felt guilty for even thinking about being homesick. She had chosen to leave. She had chosen to give it all up for the sake of sacrifice and safety. 

She understood predators. She knew that they hunted in their comfort zone. Sadly, the predators that were hunting her family had grown fond of Hawkins. It was a tragedy waiting to happen — if not one that had already nearly happened. It was kill or be killed, and she had chosen to kill the past. 

She had a choice of risking everything or sacrificing everything. 

She chose the latter. 

Maybe it wasn't Hawkins itself that she was homesick for. Hawkins hadn't felt like home in a very long time.

 Maybe instead, it was a certain person there who felt like home.

In her mind, it had been the right choice to leave. It must've been if she had any sense of logic left. Her son's life outweighed everything, and if it didn't, then it would've been selfish of her. Although she'd never say it out loud, she wished that she could be selfish for just a moment. Reclaim what was hers and fuck all to the danger holding her back. Smashing down the boundaries, ripping down the cement barriers. She wanted normalcy, but the price to pay had been everything else. 

Hopper would leave in a few days. She blanched at the thought of that, but it was true. It was his life that was now on pause, whereas she had pressed play on her own life; just in a different place. But he couldn't be stuck on pause forever. This was not 'his' forever, it was hers. She had chosen this, he had not.

He would pack his bags, turn the key and leave her in the rearview mirror. Just as she had once done to him. Two different lives, no longer acting as one. She was no longer a present part of his life. Here, he was visiting his past. 

She was his past now.

She wished him the best back in Hawkins, even though she was worried sick about him there. No matter how badly it hurt, she hoped that he would find someone there to heal him. A mother for his daughter and a lover to mend his broken heart. He deserved the world, she just couldn't give it to him. It burned in her chest and she wasn't quite sure why. 

She knew that sooner or later, she would fade away from his life. Distance would become too far. The energy of maintaining their —  _whatever it was they were,_  it would become too much for him. The phone calls would become further and further apart, and soon they would just be strangers who knew each other's secrets. She wouldn't hate him if he decided that was what they needed to be. She had sacrificed that when she had moved. If he couldn't do this any longer, she wouldn't hold it to him. It wouldn't be fair. 

She couldn't ask him to stick around if she couldn't even do that herself. 

The thought of losing him entirely stirred a bitter feeling in her stomach. It was entirely up to him now. She couldn't ask him to remain in touch as a favor. He owed her nothing and she knew it. Now, she just had to accept that and come to terms with the fact that it would be a possibility. 

When she had woken up this morning, she had found herself lying in an empty bed.  _His_  empty bed. For the first time in a long time, she had slept with a warm body next to her. Someone to cling to, hold for comfort. It was one of the best night's sleep she had gotten in a while. She had fallen fast asleep to the sound of his voice. It felt nice, finally hearing him speak in person rather than over the phone. A normal, stress-free conversation. 

She couldn't get used to it though. She wouldn't allow that. A boundary she refused to cross because once she did, there was no going back. It would allow her to lose yet another important part of her life to sacrifice, and she couldn't. She was absolutely positive that it would break her into two pieces. 

She refused to sacrifice just another thing. 

So, if she wasn't attached, there would be no sacrifice. 

 

* * *

 

 

"Good morning, Jimmy." the sound of the somewhat familiar suggestive southern accent pulled his attention as he made his way back to the house. Turning around, he spotted Ruth on her back patio wearing a smirk. 

"Good morning, Ruth." he smiled, walking closer towards her. "Sorry I'm not looking all that presentable." he vaguely gestured down towards his flannel pajama bottoms. 

"Ah, don't worry about a thing, darlin'. I've seen much worse." she laughs. "Come on over here, I wanna talk to you for a second." she motioned her hand towards one of the chairs on the porch, setting down the book she had been pretending to read. She had seen him leaving the house in the early morning as if a fire was lit under his ass. He had been on the beach for at least fifteen minutes before he decided to return to dry land. While he had went left on the beach, Joyce had gone right. Neither of them knowing that they were walking the same golden isle.

Settling into the chair next to hers, he started to feel anxiety rising up in his stomach. He didn't know the woman very well, but she made it seem as if she had known him all of his life.

"Now, I've known Joyce since she was an itty bitty baby. I know how stressed out she can get." Ruth started, a little too enthusiastically for such an early hour of the morning. "But for the past few days, she really seems a little riled up, don't you think so?" 

"I mean... I guess so." Hopper replied quietly. It felt like a trick question coming from her. "It was kind of an overnight shift. One minute she was fine and then — I don't know."

"She worries herself to death, that one. She was so excited to see you and little miss Ellie J." Ruth shook her head while Hopper chuckled softly under his breath. That had been one of the nicknames Joyce used for Elle. He loved hearing it roll off her tongue in the most endearing way. "I think she's just a little overwhelmed right now. Y'know, it's a lot of change to leave your home behind and then have parts of it return later down the road if you know what I'm saying." she peered over her white reading glasses, raising her brows as if he was supposed to understand what that meant. 

"I just... I just want her to be happy. She's been through so much, she deserves at least that." he admitted almost shamefully.

"You  _both_  deserve that." she cocked her head for emphasis as he turned to look over at her. "I have a feeling Joyce isn't giving me the full story, and that's okay because it's none of my business. But what I do know was that it was not just her who went through that horrible trauma. It was you too. Now, I don't know you very well. I pride myself in being a decent judge of character, not to mention Joyce never shuts up about you. But I have a suspicion that you're downplaying the fact that you went through that hell together."

Hopper's brows knitted and his lips formed a soft frown. "Yeah, you're probably right. I guess I was more worried about what she was going through and kinda forgot that I was there too. I can take care of myself, and Joyce can too, but what she went through was a whole different magnitude." 

"Have you considered the fact that maybe the way you pretend you didn't suffer as well makes her feel lonely? I mean, what you two went through was — _unique_ , as she described it. If I know my Joycie well enough, I know that while you're pretending this didn't happen to you, she's feeling alone in this now. She needs you to acknowledge that she isn't solitary in this battle. The best way to heal is to find someone who knows what you're feeling and what your fears are because they've lived it too. She isn't going to heal if you keep acting like nothing bad or scary happened to you either." Ruth patted her hand on top of his, watching as he fought back tears. 

God, he hadn't even thought of that. He had been so busy making sure that she was okay that he didn't realize that she needed someone to relate to; not just someone who's trying to make everything okay.

"Now," she started, reaching beside her to grab her purse. "I don't mean to barge into y'all's personal lives, but I went out on a limb here and figured you two deserve a nice stress-free night out. So, I made you both dinner reservations at Latitude 31 for tonight. Best restaurant on the island, you'll love it. I'll watch the kiddos, don't you worry about a damn thing. 6 o'clock on the dot. You got it?" she smiled, handing him a few bills from her wallet. 

He stared at her, jaw gone slack and on the verge of hysterical laughter. She was like a replica of Flo but southern. "Ruth — I... You don't have to do this." he sputtered.

"Oh hush! You and Joyce both need this. It was nothing! Take her out tonight, have a coupla' glasses of wine and just relax for once in your goddamn lives." 

She continued to hold the money out for him to take, but he was frozen. "Ruth..."

"Heavens to Murgatroyd, take it!" she shook her hand outward, laughing at his suddenly shy school-boy attitude. "At least this way I can have some peace of mind knowing that you've actually had some good seafood." 

Sheepishly, he reached out and took the money. God only knows that she'd probably shove it down his throat if he refused. With a gleeful smile, he stood up to offer her a hug. He wasn't a hugging type, but it felt rude to pretend she hadn't just saved his ass. "Thank you, Ruth. You're really kind."

"Just watching out for my God-Daughter." the woman cooed, wrapping him up in her petite figure and giving him a bone-crushing hug. As they pulled apart, she patted his shoulder and sent him off back towards Joyce's apartment.

"Goddamn Yankees," she muttered under her breath, grinning from ear to ear.

 

* * *

 

 

The nearly scalding hot water of the shower was beginning to wash away the stress and anxiety he had felt early in the morning. Boiling away the tension in his shoulders with every droplet. When he had arrived back from Ruth's, the house was empty. Joyce had left a note saying she was going for a walk while the kids went for a bike ride together. He had the house to himself for at least a little while. 

It was eerily silent. With both of the kids in one house, the silence wasn't common. He hadn't seen Elle this happy or hyper in a while. It softened some of the pain in his heart to see his daughter enjoying her time with Will. The Byers' move had been so hard on her, almost as hard as it had been on him. 

Of course, she had friends back home. She had Mike and Max and Lucas and Dustin. But it was different with Will. It was like watching her find a missing puzzle piece of herself. Someone who understood what it was like to bear the burden of a life unbeknownst to others. Someone to tell the other that they weren't alone. A support system custom designed for the trauma of the monsters. 

It made him understand Ruth's words even more. 

_"She needs you to acknowledge that she isn't solitary in this battle"_

The shower's running water wasn't loud enough to drown out the words that still reverberated in his head. It didn't just correlate with his situation with Joyce. It was the same with Elle and Will. The moment they had actually met face to face, something clicked inside of his daughter.

She had finally confessed about meeting Kali, but that was different. Kali had a different purpose. Her motive was rooted in revenge. Not Elle's. But with Will, it finally made sense. They weren't seeking the death of others who had wronged them. They just wanted life for themselves. 

Will was not born to be a weapon for the government. He wasn't a country sanctioned experiment. He was not designed to live life with a long list of trauma. He was simply a normal kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was a blessing to Elle. Someone who knew what true coldness felt like. Someone who hadn't been dealt a fair hand of cards by the universe. When the two of them finally had each other, they flourished. They healed. 

But once an unfair life, always an unfair life. They had been torn away from each other just as Joyce and himself had been torn away from each other. The gift of cruelty that just kept on giving. No matter how hard they tried to put their past behind them, the grief had shifted them apart on two different tectonic plates. 

The pain, it pushed and pushed until it got what it wanted. 

Until it forced itself to be felt. 

As the shower rained down on his bare skin, he truly wondered if he would ever be able to escape what life had locked him into. 

How was it possible that the monsters could bring him so close to Joyce, and still have the power to rip it all away? What sort of higher power had the ironic sense of humor to play pinball with his emotions? He was being used as a pawn; for whatever reason, he just wasn't sure.

Anger balled up in his fists, the water pouring down over the crown of his head. He was so sick and tired of the games. Of the losses and the grief. He was sick and fucking tired of it! Everything, every goddamn thing he had ever come to love was ripped away. First his daughter, his own flesh and blood. Then his marriage, his career. He had found Joyce again just based on sheer dumb luck and some motherfucker playing God in a laboratory. 

He told himself he wouldn't get attached.  _He promised himself._

Another promise broken. 

Another failure. 

Another fucking heartbreak. 

Ruth was wrong. He was allowed to pretend that nothing bad had ever happened to him. It eased the pain even if it was a remedy made from lies. Admitting it hurt worse and he was tired of hurting. He was sick and tired of being sick and tired. If he could just look in the mirror and see a man who wasn't shattered from the inside out, maybe he would be okay. Maybe he could fake it until he made it. The longer you pretend to be something else, the more you actually become it. Pretending to be okay wouldn't make him okay, but he wasn't ready to face that side of the truth. 

Maybe Joyce needed him to be a little bit broken in order for her to heal herself. But he was tired of being broken. He was sick of the fact that the truth was tormenting him at every turn. He was sick of wanting to break every mirror he saw because his reflection only reminded him of the things he had seen. The things he had endured. 

The steam from the shower had fogged up every pane of glass in the bathroom. He hadn't realized that he had been blankly staring off into space for the past fifteen minutes while contemplating his philosophy of life. Forcing himself out of his reverie, he slammed the handle of the shower off and reached for a towel.

Some of Ruth's words held truth in them. Joyce needed a nice night out, and he needed to put his game face on and make sure that happened. Hell, maybe he deserved it too. More than anything, he wanted to rewind time back to the early hours of the morning as he stared down at her sleeping form. Just to crawl under the warm covers and hold her close to him. But he couldn't do that, so this was going to be the next best thing. 

After drying away every part of his body, he wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way back to his room. He would need to tell Joyce about their dinner reservations and how her neighbor was up to absolutely no good. 

"Hopper, hey uh —  _oh._  Sorry." Joyce's voice startled him, turning around to see her jaw hanging slightly. For a moment, he forgot he was standing in nothing but a towel.

"It's okay," he replied quietly, carefully watching as she nervously bit her lip. "I just uh — just took a quick shower. What's up?"

Joyce's brain fizzled for a moment, falling completely blank. She forced herself not to stare anywhere other than the floor. "I um..." she shook her head, trying to regain her composure. "I - You ducked out this morning and you were gone when I woke up. I just wanted to make sure you got my note," she answered awkwardly, her shoulders squared and filled with tension.

"Oh yeah, sorry." he closed his eyes and shook his head. He had rushed out so early that he hadn't even thought to leave a note. "I uh — I spoke to Ruth."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied, a soft, nearly silent laugh coming from his chest. "She made us dinner reservations for tonight... with absolutely no warning." 

"Oh dear God." Joyce palmed her forehead, feeling dizzy with embarrassment. Her eyebrows knitted as she choked out a horrified chuckle. Ruth had always had a bit of a meddlesome side to her, but she never imagined it would branch out this far. 

"I mean, we don't have to go if you don't want to..." he started cautiously, watching her very closely. "But I'd really like to take you."

A moment of silence stood between the two of them, dragging on for what felt like ages. Just before Hopper was about to reel it back in, a soft and sincere smile formed on Joyce's lips. "Okay." she nodded.

Hopper smiled back, raising his eyebrows. "Okay? Six o'clock." 

"Let me guess." she leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms with a smirk on her face. "She's sending us to Latitude 31, isn't she?"

"For someone as unpredictable as her, you seem to be able to foresee her decisions pretty well. You hidin' a sixth sense from me, Horowitz?" he joked, reaching for a shirt out of his suitcase. The minute he turned his back to her, a blush crept up her skin and colored her cheeks. 

"You'll have to find out for yourself," she teased quietly, closing his door behind her before he could retort. She left him in bewonderment, questioning how she could make his mood go from zero to ten in less than two minutes. He underestimated her sometimes. 

Maybe he was underestimating Ruth too.

The woman sure as hell knew what she was doing.

 


	7. Chapter Seven - Lost Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce and Hopper spend an evening together while hurdling towards uncharted waters of their relationship.
> 
> Song of the chapter: Lost Without You by Freya Ridings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song featured is called Lost Without You by Freya Ridings :)

The fairy lights wrapped around the Wharf's banister blurred in her eyes, reflecting off of the softly rocking water. Everything seemed to be moving a little bit slower than usual. She felt almost a little bit tipsy despite not touching a drop of alcohol since the night previous. The red spandex dress she had worn made her feel beautiful — thanks to Ruth for shoving it in her closet a few months prior;  trying to convince her that she would need something fancy when the time came.

The wind blowing in her face felt different as it did when she was on the beach. This was a breeze that was accompanying her, rather than attempting to pull the stress away from her. The sun was setting in the not too far off distance and the wind was blowing just soft enough for it to be a serene and peaceful evening.

For an evening in late November, it came to her as a surprise that it wasn't too chilly outside. She had expected it to be frigid outside, but the warmth of her nerves was enough to keep her from shivering. 

The heels she had chosen to wear made a clicking noise against the wooden boardwalk. It felt somewhat empowering, as she wore almost only ever wore sandals or sneakers. It was a nice change for once. A welcomed change.

Those were rare. 

Hopper's breath had hitched in his throat when he saw her come down the stairs in her outfit. He had never seen her in anything mildly fancy, let alone a bright red dress that hugged her slender figure. He thought Joyce was beautiful no matter what she wore, but  _goddamn._

Music scattered over the dock, someone singing live music on a make-shift stage on the boardwalk. It was a busy night; people out celebrating for Thanksgiving coming up. Both the inside and outside of the restaurant were packed with laughing people, enjoying their food and cocktails. 

She forced herself not to stiffen and recoil when she felt Hopper's hand softly pressing in the small of her back. It was subtle, no indication of anything other than something friendly. She told herself it was nothing. Just a friend touching a friend on the back; no harm no foul. They were going out to dinner as friends, and that was that. 

Her head was buzzing even more now. Every nerve in her skull thrumming with the beat of the music. The girl on the stage had been singing a few classics; The Beach Boys, Elvis, Rolling Stones. Without noticing, she had started humming along. 

While waiting in line for the maître d' to return, Hopper looked down and smirked at her while she continued humming. 

As soon as she spotted his expression, her tune stopped. "Shut up." she furrowed her brows, her words lacking any conviction that she was actually offended. 

"Never heard you sing before. I like it." he gave her a shit-eating grin, watching the rosy red flush of embarrassment climb up through her cheeks.

As she rolled her eyes playfully, the maître d' rushed back to the podium. "Welcome to Latitude 31. May I have your name please?" she asked. She couldn't have been more than twenty years old. Dark brunette hair and brown eyes. She was smiling directly at Hopper, almost flirtatiously. 

"It's under Kennedy, I believe," he responded.

"Ah yes." the girl flashed an even bigger smile. "Ruth called on your behalf. Requested the best room in the house for you." She was looking directly at Hopper, ignoring Joyce's presence altogether. Something similar to the feeling of jealousy begun to stir in Joyce's stomach. Not that she had anything to be jealous about.  She was here with him for Christ's sake. 

Joyce's shoulders slumped as they followed the maître d' to their table. That was until Hopper's hand returned to gently rest her back. Her heart surprisingly slowed more than it sped up. He was relaxing her in the simplest way. Just a touch.

"Your waitress will be with you in just a little while." the girl spoke directly to Hopper, leaving them to get comfortable. The table was in a secluded part of the exterior restaurant, settled on the edge of the Wharf's dock. Far enough away from too much people but just close enough to still hear the music. 

"That was rude," Joyce commented, pursing her lips as she picked up the menu.

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking at her quizzingly.

"She was totally flirting with you. For all she knew, we could've been a married couple out on a date." she instantly regretted the words that fell from her mouth.

Hopper stayed quiet for a moment, a grin slowly taking up his face.  He stared at her completely unrelenting. "You're jealous."

"I am not jealous!" she scoffed, staring over the menu at him with an incredulous look. 

"Jea-lous," Hopper replied in a sing-song voice. 

"James Hopper, I am not jealous. I mean — I guess, I don't really have any place to be... _jealous._ " her words slowed down, the cogs in her mind turning as she realized what she was saying. She gulped, wondering if she had pushed too far. If she had cornered herself into something she wouldn't be able to find a way out of. 

"I kinda like you when you're jealous." he grinned. "If it makes you feel any better, she's not my type."

Joyce's heart plummeted  "So... brown hair and brown eyes isn't your type, huh?" she tried to sound as neutral as possible, hiding the disappointment that she refused to even acknowledge that she felt. 

"I mean more like the fact that she's probably Jonathan's age." he leaned in just a little bit closer to whisper. "I like my brown hair and brown eyes a little bit older than a high school graduate." 

Joyce's breathing instantly stopped as she stared into the deep blue eyes that had her in their grasp. He can tell that she's uncomfortable, but he doesn't retaliate and neither does she. "Are you flirting with me?" she blurts out.

God, she always knew how to catch him off guard.

He stops and pauses to think for a second. "Yeah," he nods once, the words roll off of his tongue as simple as can be. 

Her face doesn't change, she's still staring at him with those brown eyes gone completely blank. Unintentionally, she begins to gently nod her head too. "Okay." 

_Okay._

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of the wine bottle clinks against both of their glasses. The food is delicious and both of them have had a little bit too much to drink. The awkwardness has faded, probably due to the buzz of oxytocin and Merlot that they're both high on. 

"God," he looks around at the surrounding water, a sluggish smile growing on his face. "I think I'd love to live here. I mean..." his words are slurred, but it's okay because so are hers. They're having fun. They deserve it. "Wakin' up to the water every single day? Heaven." 

"So, stay." she shook her head lazily, trying to focus her eyes on his. "I mean it. What's holding you back? They've got jobs here an-and schools and stuff here too." she takes another sip from her glass.

"I wish." he laughs a little too obnoxiously. "Nah. Elle would kill me if I moved her away from that uh... wha-what's that kid's name? Mike! God, she'd snap my spine in half with her mind. Can't do that to her." he shook his head sloppily, running his hands through his hair in the process.

"Its kinda nice here." she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to will away the dizziness. "I mean — it-it's just so _quiet_  here. Y'know? No monsters or bullshit. I think you'd like it out here if you actually let yourself enjoy life for a minute." 

"I  _am_ enjoying it." his words weren't as soft this time, but he tried to hold himself back from starting an argument. Granted, his state of mind wasn't necessarily strong enough to hold out on that attempt. 

"Yeah," she nodded. "But you know in the back of your head that you're just gonna go back to the way things were in a couple of days. Can't really enjoy it that much when you know what's just over the horizon." 

Hopper dropped his head into his palm, shrugging his shoulders. "I got priorities. We're in a similar boat, Joy, but not the same one. Moving out here might have been what was best for you... not so sure that it's what would be best for me and the kid." 

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't know until you try." The alcohol was making her too confident and she knew she was barrelling down a road of discussions and arguments. She couldn't help it. She couldn't stop these things from coming out after they've been sitting on her mind for a long time. 

"I can't just uproot everything, Joyce. Elle needs to learn some security in this life. Moving her away now would only erupt into something atomic. It's just not healthy for her." he sighed, rubbing his palm against his forehead.

Joyce paused for a moment, gulping as she stared down at her nearly empty plate of food. "I know," she admitted quietly. The conversation turning into something more serious had sobered her mind just a little bit. He was right and she felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he said, swirling his wine around in the glass. 

"Hypothetically," she cocked her head to the side, resting it on her shoulder. "If this situation was different. If you didn't have Elle to worry about, but we were still close like we are now... would you have considered coming here with me?"

"In a heartbeat," he replied swiftly, not a single hint of a slur in his speech. His eyes locked with hers, blue battling brown while searching for something deeper. 

Her expression twisted into a sad frown. "Really?" 

A wave of heartache washed through him. God, yes. Of course, he would've. He would've followed her to Africa if he had to. It hurt even worse for him to see that she hadn't already known that. That he hadn't given her any inclination that he would literally go to the ends of the Earth for her if he could. 

Leaning forward, he softly took her hand into his and stroked the top of it with his thumb. 

"Absolutely." 

It felt as if fire ignited under the skin where his fingers touched. In the very moment, she actually believed him. She didn't have any reason not to believe him. He had shown her that much already. Maybe not by following her here, but the way he had literally crawled into another dimension to help her bring her son back. 

He loved her. She wasn't quite ready to let down her wall of denial and accept it just yet, but the alcohol in her veins was enough to let a little bit of the light seep through. Tomorrow, she would most likely go right back to being stuck in disbelief. Someday, it would hit her; and it would hit her hard. But that day wasn't today, and maybe it wasn't close at all.

The live singer announced that she was going to sing an original song, ultimately interrupting their moment together. Hopper smiled as he heard the first few chords. Standing up, he reached his hand out to her "Wanna dance with me?" 

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment before she took his hand and followed him to the center of the candlelit dock where the other people were swaying to the music. 

"Sorry in advance if I step on your toes," she whispered with a smile, wrapping her arms around his neck while he wrapped his around her waist. 

"It'll be like the Snowball of '59 all over again." he laughed, smiling down at her as she laughed. As the music started to pick up, she looked up at him with a sparkle in her eyes.

 _'Standin' on the platform_  
_Watching you go_  
_It's like no other pain_  
_I've ever known_  
_To love someone so much_  
_To have no control_  
_You said, "I wanna see the world"_  
_And I said, "Go"'_

She leaned against his swaying body, pressing her head to his chest. The gentle rush of the lake water seemed to match the music perfectly. She was reunited with the familiar thumping of his heart pressed against her ear. The world around them began to fade away, leaving them alone with themselves and the music.

She missed him. She would never deny that. Sometimes, the pain of missing him hit harder than she could've ever expected it to. It was reconciling with him that had proven just how badly she actually did long for him. Over the past few months, she had tried not to pay any attention to just how badly she wished he was still around her. But he was here now, and the questions as to why she was hurting so bad had finally been answered. 

To her, home was no longer a place or a house. She had learned that the hard way when she had to give up the closest thing she knew as home. Home hadn't felt like home anymore. Maybe if she moved, she would find that feeling again. She wasn't wrong, but she wasn't necessarily right either. 

He was her home. She had been misguided and hadn't realized quickly enough that fleeing Hawkins wouldn't bring that feeling back; it would only make it worse. Her pain wouldn't be solved by finding a new home, because he would always be home to her.

 _'Strangers rushin' past_  
_Just tryna get home_  
_But you were the only_  
_Safehaven that I've known_  
_Hits me at full speed_  
_Feel like I can't breathe_  
_And nobody knows_  
_This pain inside me_  
_My world is crumbling_  
_I should never have_  
_Let you go'_

He loved her. There was no denying it. There was no pretending it wasn't real. Joyce could stay in denial for as long as she wanted, but he refused to be oblivious to his feelings anymore. Maybe accepting those feelings would hurt, but ignoring them made it hurt even worse. 

She owned him. He had signed every ounce of his love over to her and held no regrets for that. She made life bearable. This miserable, awful, pain-fuelled life. She made it worth living. They all did. Her and the kids, they gave him a reason to keep living. In every life he had ever lived, he had lost everything. Over and over, he experienced loss and grief until it became crippling. No matter how many miles away Joyce could be, he refused to lose her too. 

Just a glance at her could make him feel better. He couldn't imagine having that feeling with anybody else. She was an enigma. Unexplainable. How someone so broken herself could heal another broken man, it left him questioning everything he had ever come to know. 

When she left, he truly wondered if he would ever see her again. Now, she was cradled in his arms as they swayed to the music. No matter how much pain he had survived, he would never be able to figure out what he had done to deserve having such an amazing woman held tightly against him. The love he felt for her greatly made up for every tragedy he had lived through. Maybe the universe was rewarding him for handling what he had been dealt, but even this felt like too much of a blessing.

 _'I think I'm lost without you,_  
_I just feel crushed without you_  
_'Cause I've been strong for so long_  
_That I never thought how much I love you'_

 

* * *

 

The sun had finally set for the night, leaving only the illumination of the moon over the water to guide them home. Neither of them dared to drive even though home was only a few minutes away; so they settled on walking along the beach to get home. 

Joyce had finally grown tired of the heels, carrying them along with her as she walked barefoot. God only knows that she'd probably break her ankle trying to walk drunkenly on the sand in those damn shoes.

The remaining wine in their systems left them blissfully tired and disoriented. It was truly a sight to be seen; Joyce Byers in a red dress walking along the beach at midnight with Jim Hopper, both a little bit too drunk for public standards. But it felt kinda nice. Peaceful. 

She had nearly fallen on top of him a few times, her equilibrium thrown completely off kilter. At least she had him to fall back on just in case. He would be there to catch her. He always would be. Her head wouldn't harshly hit the ground as she tumbled, she wouldn't be left lying on the beach if she did fall.

He would catch her. He would be there to save her.

Or maybe he wouldn't. But if he wasn't, then she was the one to blame.

She pushed him out, left him behind. She knew she couldn't continue to rely on him to keep holding her up; picking her up off the ground every time she fell. 

He wasn't responsible for her. 

She hated this. She hated that every single time she was happy, the negative thoughts seemed to rush in like a tornado. All she wanted was to enjoy a moment for fuck's sake. Every guilty thought and self-deprecating notion she had always ruined any shred of happiness she allowed herself to feel. 

She just wanted to feel free, damn it! 

They trudged along the sand, leaving two sets of footprints indented in the ground behind them. The house was about a mile away, but it felt far beyond that. Every now and then, she catches him looking at her out of the corner of her eye; and every time she does, her lips curl into a small smile. 

Maybe she was free. Maybe she just didn't realize it.

"What are you looking at?" she smirked, nearly falling sideways as she turned to look at him. He only smiled, barely visible under the scruff of his beard. But it was there, and she swore she could see it even through her drunken haze.

"You. Wh-what else would I be lookin' at?" he responds, his words slurring slightly as his eyelids nearly droop shut. She was so pretty in his eyes. Even half stumbling on the beach, completely barefoot. She was so beautiful. 

"I'on know?" she responds, her words getting lost in the rush of the blowing wind. "Why'ya looking at me?" 

"Bu'cause I can." he mocks her voice, reminding her of the attitude he had in the third grade. 

Suddenly, she stops. Furrowing her brows, she stares up at him. "Wanna go in the water?" she askes, a devilish grin taking over her expression. 

She was free. She just had to want it.

"I triple dog dare you to go in the water." he shakes his head with exaggerated movement, leaning down just a little bit to meet her height. 

"I'll go if you go. 'Is gonna be cold." she snorts.

"You don't have a choice now. Upsey Daisy," he shouts with laughter, swiftly picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder before barrelling towards the water. She kicks and screams against him, breaking out into a hysterical fit of giggles.

"Put me down! Put me down!" she cries over and over before her voice goes hoarse from laughing too hard. 

"Not a chance!"

Her legs kick as she sees the shoreline getting further and further away. Before they know it, their skin hits the frigid ocean water just as a wave begins to make its descent. Neither of them are able to speak due to the laughter belting from their chests. 

Even in a drunk state of mischief, they feel like children again. 

Free. 

The water instantly soaks their clothes, causing them to stick to their skin. Hopper keeps running further out as fast as the water will let him, Joyce hanging on to his shoulder. 

Oh, so free.

Suddenly, the world seems to be moving slower. Almost too slowly. It doesn't matter, because now she's laughing more than she has in months. Splashing, spinning, joking. She's in love with the moment, but she's so overcome by it that she can't take a moment to appreciate it. Instead, she just lives in it. 

The sound of the waves drowns out the laughter and he isn't letting her run. Not this time. Not when she's so close in his grasp that he can nearly taste it. He wants to kiss her more than he's ever wanted anything, but he won't. He won't take the chance of leaning down and stealing her lips with his because he knows she'll run. She'll run so far and he won't allow that to happen. 

God willing, if this is as close as he gets, then he's okay with that.

Even through the pitch black atmosphere of the night, he can see the light in her brown eyes. They're sparkling again. God, they always sparkle. Fully immersed in the water, they're splashing and pushing each other. Not a care as to the world that lies beyond the waves. It'll be there when they get back. When they come back down to Earth from this glorious moment. 

He can taste the salt water when he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. She's nearly doubled over now, and he is in love with watching her unchain herself for at least a moment. She deserves it. She deserves all of the happiness she's feeling.

She has completely let go now, and it's a sight to be seen. A sight he can't remember ever seeing. It isn't a release of unhinged anger, but a rescue courtesy of her pure elation. She's incredible. So incredible, that he wants to stop and stare, but he can't. Not yet. He can't let the moment slip away like everything else. Just a few more minutes, he begs the universe. Just a few more. 

The ocean had become one of her best friends, and he had seen that within his few days of being in her presence. She turned to the water during both triumphs and tribulations. She shares her life with the sea. She isn't lonely as long as she is within its vicinity. 

He had heard a quote once

_"Sometimes you discover that home is not a person or a place, but a feeling you can't get back."_

She had been chasing after a place to call home. But deep down, he knew that she would never find it unless she realized that home was not a physical place of a warm body to sleep next to. It was everything. A real home lies within the memories. 

Home was when the wind blew in the right direction and the sun finally cleared through on a cloudy day. Home was when you could see a person smile and allow yourself to feel it live on through your heart. In your mind. In your soul. 

She was chasing the wrong home. 

Home was comfort. 

In this very moment, he was home. It wouldn't be home forever, but it was home right now. That was what mattered. The bone-chilling frigid water. The granules of sand against his skin. The way the moon was reflecting off of her eyes while she danced with him in the ocean. Home would soon be a memory, but he was here right now. 

 

She had left in search of a home, but she had taken his home with her.

 

 _'Standin' on the platform_  
_Watching you go_  
_You said, "I wanna see the world"_  
_And I said, "Go"'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter was cut a little bit shorter than my usual word count. I have difficulties keeping my WC up when I'm writing dialogue. But never fear, the next chapter will be fluffy, a little flirty/smutty (only a little, still slowburning) and pretty dramatic. So, I hope that makes up for it lol. TBC!!


	8. Chapter Eight - If You Fall In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopper makes a move which leaves Joyce feeling lost. Meanwhile, Elle and Will pester Hopper about his dinner with Joyce
> 
> Song of the chapter: Backsliding by Carrie Underwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, the scene in this chapter doesn't exactly qualify for 'smut' as much as it like a light teasing. The next chapter is a different story in that case if you know what I mean. 
> 
> So when chapter nine goes up soon, it will change the rating to probably mature.

He had wanted to kiss her last night. She was positive that he couldn't tell that she knew and saw it, but she did. He was so close to breaking the barrier as the last shred of his willpower disintegrated. So close. So goddamn close to her lips while she laughed in the throes of the waves.

Deep down, so deep that it was almost unrecognizable, she had wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to rip the band-aid off and just do it already. Make the move.  Every time that the thought of him in a romantic manner crossed her mind, she told herself it wouldn't be worth it. He would be worth it, but the pain wouldn't. Things would only get worse. It would come down to yet another sacrifice that would leave them both broken hearted.

But his eyes had sparkled so perfectly and the smile he had worn was beyond the confines of beautiful; and all she wanted at that moment was for him to kiss her. Her mind screamed its protests against it, but her heart had done most of the talking.

Joyce Byers didn't usually think with her heart.

But last night, she nearly had. She was so close to telling her rationale to get fucked. She was so close to falling. Falling, drowning, dwelling in everything that made Jim Hopper into Jim Hopper. So close to giving in.

So close to handing herself over to him; every battle and every self-preservational thought of hers left to fall back into the ocean. She wanted to strip herself of her doubts and worries. To give him her bare and whole self, stripped away of the mask she used to hide her vulnerability. 

She was so close, but she hadn't done it. 

 The thick cement walls that she had put up between him and her emotions for him were slowly being shaved down. Slowly, brick by brick, disappearing. It was terrifying. She had erected those walls and boundaries to protect herself, but she had no control over the loss of them. Whether it was her heart or the universe tearing down her deeply protected walls, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that they were crumbling. 

Loving him meant losing him. She was terrified of loving him. When her eyes closed and her the booming loud world was shut out for but a moment, all she could think about was how painful it would be to lose him. To watch him fading away to the inevitable loss that followed her everywhere.

Setting him free from her would be doing him a favor... right?

If he loved her, he would spare her the pain of falling in love with him, only to lose him. If he were willing to take even just an inch of the sacrifice off of her back, he would walk away rather than impose the scenario of love that would either end in two ways of pain — and nothing else. 

Her mind was rotted from the trauma. The stress, it had changed her inside and out. She would never see the world through rose-colored glasses ever again. She would see the world for what it was; harsh and cruel and unrelenting. This life didn't offer her the opportunity of fulfilled love. Not without a tragic ending. At least, that was what the trauma had convinced her of. 

She had come here not just to keep her family safe, but to find her identity. She needed to find who she was without the strings of Hawkins attached. If she fell in love with him, her identity without Hawkins would be lost. She would slowly be roped back into what she had left behind. She was trying so damn hard to be something other than who she once was. To pick up her shattered heart off of the cold Hawkins' soil and carry it with her somewhere else. If she fell in love, he would take one of those pieces of her home with him. 

He was changing everything. Every moment, every passing second that he was here, he was changing everything. He was the fault lines trembling underneath her little glass house. Everything she had built in her several months away, everything she had thought she had learned, changing. 

Less than seven days of him being here, and he managed to blow everything out of the water.

He managed to remind her of who she was before she left it all behind. 

She didn't want to fall in love. She was scared beyond repair of falling so badly that she wouldn't be able to pick herself up. Hopper wasn't just another man who could so easily come and go from her life within the drop of a dime. He was Hopper. The man who seemed to have a magnetic pull over the Earth. Someone who could not only look into her eyes and see every single ounce of pain, but understand it too.

He had clawed his way through the obsidian and oblivion to save her child. Not just her child, but to save her too. A man with nothing to live for walking into a different dimension and came out on the other side as a different man; a man with a reason. The person who came out alive on the other side was a man who now saw how fragile life truly was. A man who had breathed poisonous air and became attached to what he had pulled out of it. 

He had risked everything for her and she was too scared to risk everything for him in return. The guilt was agonizing. 

He would never ask her for a favor in return for what he had done to help her. She knew that. That wasn't like him. He would not only look her in the eye and reassure her that she didn't owe him a damn thing, but he would mean it to. Yet, she felt culpable. 

If he knew what was on her mind at this very moment, he would tell her that he didn't want her to love him if it was rooted in false pretenses

But if she were to fall in love with him, she knew that wouldn't be the case. It would be because he is incredibly kind and caring when he wants to be. It would be because of the way he's an incredible father and a man who knows the worth of life. Because his heart is deeper than anybody could ever even begin to imagine. 

She wouldn't love him for the wrong reasons. She would love him for all of the reasons she possibly could.

If she decided to allow herself that. 

 

* * *

 

 

It's early in the morning when she peaks her head into Hopper's room. Even drenched in the light from the sun, he still sleeps so soundly. A small smile tugs gently at her lips when she sees how peaceful he looks. He's always had a look of exterior toughness, but in his sleep, it seems to fade. 

Cautiously, she tip-toes over to the empty side of his bed. Although she's hungover from last night's festivities, she can't help but to still feel joyful. It had been the night she had wanted so badly. A night of freedom and laughter with no repercussions. 

The bed softly indents as she moves to sit down on it, trying her hardest not to wake him up. His breathing is still deep and even, no flutter in his eyes or expression. She smiles again, taking in the sight in front of her. He's beautiful to her, just as she is to him. 

The rising sun casts a golden reflection off of the walls and onto his skin. He seems a little more at ease here. He had been on edge when he arrived, detoxing from the natural stress of Hawkins. But over the past few days, the bags under his eyes had faded slowly and he didn't look as tired. 

_Blame it on the saltwater air, you'll sleep like a baby._

She fights off the urge to run her hand delicately through his hair. She'll wake him if she does, but she still wants to feel his head cradling in her hand. 

She wasn't just scared of getting hurt anymore; she was scared of hurting him. 

There were at least a hundred prodding reasons in her mind as to why she shouldn't fall for him, or allow him to fall for her. So much risk and dread surrounded them, she was fearful their either one of them may fall into it. He had mentioned his black hole metaphor to her before, but now she understood it because she had felt it too. 

But somehow, he made her feel both as if the world had collapsed on top of her, and as if he were the one saving her from the rubble and debris. She didn't know what to think of him anymore. So perfectly imperfect. 

She had fallen asleep with herself wrapped in his arms the night before last, but she had also woken up in his bed and he was no longer there.

"Why are you staring at me?" he mumbled sluggishly, startling her and the silence she was expecting. She laughed softly, continuing to watch him.

"Because I can," she smiled, repeating his line from the previous night.

Through his sleepy haze, she could see him starting to grin. He lifted his arm and patted at the spot on the bed next to him, motioning for her to move closer. Her heart sped up as she crawled over towards him, her pink bathrobe dragging along the sheets as she moved to curl up next to him.

Finally, his eyes opened. Undoubtedly looking as blue as they could possibly get. He was staring at her fiercely, taking in the sight of her in his arms once again.

_God, what were they doing?_

He's staring at her and she's staring at him, both asking the same question with nothing but their eyes. She feels it, the electricity. She feels it but she's terrified of it. She's so damn scared that just the slightest bit of static will spark into a livewire and burn her down like an electrical fire. Neither of them were brave enough to step into the flame yet, and she was nearly positive that it wouldn't be her to do so first. 

"I'm not going to kiss you," he whispers, his words sucking all of the oxygen from her lungs. He knows that she's scared, he can feel it in the thrum of her pulse. He doesn't want to do anything that will send her running for the hills, but his willpower is slowly wearing down into nothing. Nothing but just barely a shred of self-control anymore. "Yet."

She's staring at his lips, biting down hard on her own. It's a constant game of tug-o-war in her head. She wants this, but she doesn't. Her nerve endings are crying out that she needs this but her fears are telling her not to allow herself to spiral into this. The heat is climbing up through her skin and she's physically forcing herself not to act on it. Not to give in to the temptation. "Okay," she whispers. He knows. He can feel it. 

He doesn't kiss her, but his arms wrap around her and in a sudden wave of movements she's on top of him with her face buried in his neck. She can feel his pulse speeding up against her skin; his chest is rising and falling in forced breaths. His scent is intoxicating and she's getting weaker and weaker by the moment. Her body is taking over control and she's losing this fight against herself. 

His fingers are gripping the back of her bare thighs where her bathrobe falls just a little short and something in the back of her mind is begging him to just move his hands a little lower. Just inches away. Her legs are straddled at his waist and she swears that if she just rotates her hips a little bit she'd be able to feel him. Touch him. Squeeze him. Love him. But she can't. Not yet, or maybe not ever. 

But she's so damn close to giving in. 

The arousal running through her nerves is moving her body against her will. His fingers are indenting themselves deeper into the skin of her legs while her hips are sliding ever so slightly against him. With her face buried into the pillow underneath his head, her breathing speeds up into hot puffs of air. She wants this but she doesn't and she doesn't want to want it but _god_ , she needs it.

She's hurdling towards the barrier past any returnable point, but she's going so fast that she can't stop herself. This is self-destruction and self renovation all in the same moment, all in the same breath. She's tearing herself down while he's rebuilding her. 

With barely being touched, she feels herself beginning to succumb to the ignited fire between her thighs. She's writhing against him, her hand clutching at the sheets beside them. The friction isn't enough, she needed to feel him without a layer of clothing between them. She could kiss him if she wanted to, she's only mere inches away, but she can't focus. She can't think about anything other than the feeling of his skin on hers and she's getting too carried away.

"Joyce," he's panting with her name on his lips and it's driving her closer and closer. "Joyce, we- we gotta stop." his words begin to pull her out of the cloud that her head is stuck in. Her eyes stay glued closed as she lifts her head to face him. His hands cup her cheeks as they attempt to catch their breath together. "I'm sorry," he mutters repeatedly, pressing his forehead to hers. His voice is straining but he swallows it with a gulp. "I'm losing control of myself, Joyce. An-and you're not ready and I need to respect that." 

She nods against him, her willpower slowly flooding back to her. Her lips are swollen from biting them and she's incredibly frustrated, but he's right. Fuck, he's always right. 

She forces herself to open her eyes, look at him and mentally deny herself what her body craves the most. His lower lip is sticking out, still desperately regain control over his breathing. The pure look of pain in his eyes would be seared into her brain forever. He was fighting back his instincts so severely that every shred of agony he felt was evident on his face.

This. This was why she hated letting herself go. To let her body take control. It would only hurt him, hurt her, and fuck everything up. She hadn't just let go of her own control, she had made him let go of his too. She felt like a teenager who just got finished dry humping a boy in the back of her dad's truck. She felt stupid.

"Right." she rolls to move off of him. Her hands anxiously press over her eyes, trying to find the right words if they even existed. "You—you're right. Oh my God, you're right. I'm sorry." she sputters, refusing to look at him.

"Joyce," he calls out, but she's adjusting the tie of her bathrobe before she hightails it out of his room. She shouldn't have even come in, asking for trouble the moment she decided to accept his offer and lay in his arms. The magnetic pull between them was becoming tauter by the minute; she had lost control this time. It wouldn't happen again. "Joyce, wait!" 

"I just... I need a minute, please." she refused to look him in the eyes, fearful that she would see everything crumbling down in front of her. The quicker the seconds passed, the tighter she squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to go back in time and stop herself from doing this. She had crossed a line. Everything became too overwhelming and it did nothing to help the frustration that pooled in her stomach.

"I'm sorry, Joyce. Please, just... just don't beat yourself up over this. It was my fault," he pleaded,  "I shouldn't ha—"  _SLAM!_  The door was shut tightly behind her and she ran off into her bedroom. 

 

* * *

 

 

"How was your date?" Elle smirked, watching Hopper from the kitchen island as she ate her breakfast cereal. Hopper flashed her a disapproving glare, cocking his head to the side. He wasn't in the mood for this, and he didn't foresee himself being in any mood to deal with this in the near future.

"It wasn't a date," he grunted through clenched teeth. He was telling the truth; as far as he knew, last night had not been a date of any sorts. 

"Ruth said it was a date. I like Ruth, she reminds me of Grandma Flo." the girl gave him a cocky smirk, knowing that he would soon grow irritated with her prodding at his personal life. She didn't care. He picked on her enough about Mike, she deserved to return some of what he had dished out.

"Just because Ruth says it was a date doesn't mean it was a date." he started, opening up the refrigerator to grab the orange juice. "We were two friends who went out for dinner. That's that." He tried to make the words sound as convincing as possible, even though they nearly crumbled in his throat.

"Mhm. You had a fancy dinner, lots of wine, and you danced to romantic music. That doesn't sound like 'just friends', does it?" she retorted, looking away from him and down at her bowl of cereal. 

Hopper stopped, spinning on his heel to look at her. "Wait just a goddamn minute!"  His eyes narrowed, his jaw falling slightly slack. No. Nope. Absolutely fucking not. "Wh- Were you and Ruth spying on our date?" 

"Aha! You said it was a date!" she shrieked with laughter. "Will was there too," she added, not that it would help her get out of the grave she was digging herself with each passing comment.

He could only stare at her, undeciding of whether he was furious or about to have a breakdown. "You little shits!" he choked out, including Ruth in his statement. "I only said it was a date because you said it was a date! It wasn't a date!" 

"We only stayed for a few minutes! You were holding her the same way Mike held me at the Snowball. Definitely 'just friends', huh?" 

He furrowed his brows, gravitating towards less irritated and more just plain angry. "Alright, pipe down!" he snapped, his authoritative voice causing no reaction to his teen's demeanor. "You're still the kid and I'm the adult." he gritted out through his teeth, God forbid if she gets a leg up in their future arguments based on what she thinks she saw. 

"An adult who went on a date," she added, moving closer to the dangerous territory of being grounded for the rest of the trip. He ground his jaw down, trying to ignore her comments and focus on making himself breakfast. He had been through enough already and it wasn't even noon yet.  

"Good morning." Will chirped as he made his way into the kitchen, still dressed in the previous night's pajamas. "How was the date?"

"You'd know, you were there," Hopper remarked under his breath, only a slight sting in his words. He didn't have it in him to yell at Will the way he could at Elle. She turned to look at Will who moved to sit next to her at the kitchen island. As soon as their eyes met, they nearly burst into a fit of giggles. 

"He says it wasn't a date," Elle commented before taking in another mouthful of cereal. 

"It was totally a date," he responded nonchalantly, reaching for the box of fresh danishes that Ruth had left for them. "Fancy dinner, fancy wine, fancy dancing. Date." Elle nodded in agreement. She had watched enough soap operas to know a date when she saw one.

"You two really are two peas in a pod, huh," Hopper grumbled again, cracking a couple of eggs into the skillet. He was hungover, hungry, and it was too fucking early to argue with the kids about this. Especially since it wasn't any of their business anyway.

"Morning guys," Joyce interrupted quietly as she walked into the kitchen, kissing both Elle and Will on the top of their heads. She managed to ignore Hopper's glance at her, training her eyes to stay on either the children or the floor. 

Before anybody else could get a word in, Will spoke up first. "Did you and Hopper go on a date last night?" His words sounded innocent; almost as if he wasn't really looking for an answer at all.

"No!" Both Joyce and Hopper shouted in unison before catching the other's eye. They hadn't talked about whether or not their dinner had been a date. It didn't even seem important. Nobody had expected that it would be such a hot topic of discussion; and absolutely neither of them thought they would be converted into Ruth's little spies overnight. 

Will cocked his head and looked at Elle, "Double negative. That's a yes." 

Both Joyce and Hopper stayed silent, praying that the kids wouldn't pick up any hints of what had happened upstairs. The last thing they needed was to be poked and prodded in a wound that had just been created by both of them.

"I um... I'm not that hungry. I think I'm gonna take a walk." Joyce said quietly, looking down at the floor as she moved towards the back patio door. Hopper's eyes followed her as she walked, fighting back the pain that was rising in his chest at the sight of her. 

 

* * *

 

 

It seemed as if the more she hurt, the closer she stood towards the ocean. On good days, she was always a few feet away from where the waves crashed. On a moderate day, she was only a few inches away. Then there were days like today where she was ankle deep in the water. 

She couldn't bring herself to move from where she stood no matter how hard she tried. That was happening a lot lately. Her body was finally distancing itself from her mind; making its own decisions now. She felt detached. Different pieces of her broken and scattered, moving with a mind of their own.

She felt lost.

When hadn't she?

As erratic and unreliable as her feelings had been the last few days, they felt as if they were becoming repetitive. One minute she was high on life, and the next minute she was at rock bottom. No matter which state of mind she was in, she was along the ocean while she lived it. That was becoming repetitive too. The waves had become a confessional that she would turn to, allowing her a listening ear while she atoned for her sins.

 What kind of person couldn't cope for five minutes without running towards the promise land?

She was tired of being confused. Confused about what she wanted, confused about her feelings. All of it. For once, she just wanted to have a clear mind. To think without having to worry about what she would feel or what consequences she would face. 

The income of waves brush against her skin once again, and she knows that the tide is coming in. It will wash away any remanence of the sand, hiding it under a thick, impenetrable veil of water. She wasn't going to move. If the tide wanted to swallow her up and take her out to see, she wouldn't fight. She wouldn't protest the push and pull of the water, only breathe into it as it ran its course.

She wanted to be swept up into the furious water. To be involuntarily pulled away from life itself and just  _go_. She was running out of places to run, the sea was her last option. The waves were growing taller now, splashing higher and higher against her legs. Her feet stayed glued into the sand, sinking as the ground became saturated. 

The entire world was running out of air for her to breathe. She didn't have a clue about what she wanted anymore. Nothing was set in stone, so neither was she. The universe would make choices for her, and maybe one of those choices was that she would be swept away forever. She was tired of wrestling with destiny, arguing with fate and divine intervention. She was angry that her thoughts no longer lined up or made any sense to her anymore. Everything was scrambled now. She had choices to make, decisions to ponder. 

She didn't want that anymore. No more decisions, no more choices, no more alternatives. No more fucking sacrifice. She didn't know what she wanted, but she knew that she was done being faced with choices that resulted in sacrificing something meaningful to her. 

The decline was growing steeper, and she was struggling to hang on to the simplest parts of herself. Less like a butterfly shedding its cocoon, more like a body losing a fight against a deadly disease. She was losing herself to a battle that she was fighting blindly.

The waves were rising higher, reaching her waist without her taking a single step forward. The mixture of both the salt in the air and the water burned her eyes as she kept them lazily opened. Maybe she would wake up from this. Maybe it was all just a dream and she could start fresh tomorrow. Maybe this wasn't real after all. 

She had pushed away feelings that had hit her like a freight train the moment Hopper pulled up in her driveway. Feelings that she thought she had left behind with everything else that she had sacrificed. But they were back, and they were creating wounds that grew by the minute. The decay wasn't just occupying the Upside Down anymore, it was growing within her. Every breath that escaped her lips, death seemed to follow. Death of dreams, of love, of places known to be home. 

She felt the urge to close her eyes, growing tired as the wind ripped against her skin. She wanted to sleep. To fall back on the waves and just  _rest_. She had been tired for a while now, but she was edging closer and closer to the line of the exhaustion turning into self-destruction. Slowly, over a span of months, she began to give in to the fatigue. When she wasn't tired, she wasn't in pain, and the absence of pain became almost pleasurable. 

The water rose higher, and she realized that she was faced with a choice. In the very moment that she was standing in, she had two options. Give in, or go back. To give in seemed so captivating; to just let her wash away with the water. It was the easier option. But since when did the easier option become the right one? Her time to make a choice was quickly running out. She wanted to melt into the water, just once to pick the easiest option. To surrender the struggle and just give in. 

With the feeling of weights attached to her ankles, she turned and trudged back to the shore. A decision of fighting instead of giving in. She was tired of fighting, but she would continue to do so until she could let go without any guilt. The weight of her eyelids felt heavy on her skin, each step becoming harder and harder to take. She would continue to face her demons. Continue to be a warrior and a survivor, no matter how badly it hurt and how exhausted she as. 

She had offered herself to the riptide, but it hadn't taken her.

Not today. 


	9. Chapter Nine - Mind Versus Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elle grows worried when Joyce seems to distance herself from the group. Meanwhile, Joyce has a small moment of clarity with herself during her state of mental decline.
> 
> Song of the chapter: I Found by Amber Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kinda messy, but the next two chapters are where its gonna be okur? 
> 
> oof, ignore my shitty smut writing. yikes.

She had made a promise to herself that she would find herself before she found love. Promises were overrated, and so was love. The constant question always remained; who was she if she was not a mother? She wasn't a wife anymore, and family was fairly distant or not existent. She was a mother. That made her who she was. Her entire identity revolved around her children.

She wanted to find the answers to the question of who she was outside of motherhood. Well, the answers couldn't be too far, could they? She was a woman who loved the music of The Beatles. She had read 'To Kill a Mockingbird' at least twenty times. She would pick a strawberry milkshake over a chocolate one any day. She couldn't cook to save her life, but she could decorate a cake like it was her job. 

But it seemed to her as if none of it mattered. When she closed her eyes at night, everything came down to the fact that she was a mother. Just a mother who would be nothing without her children. Every fear she had, every failure she tried to dodge, all rooted in the basis of motherhood. 

Love was finding her faster than she could find herself and it was terrifying. She wanted to be more than just a mother, to have something else to offer. If her entire world collapsed today and she lost everything, she wouldn't have the slightest clue of what her identity was made of. 

Maybe that was where most of her fears came from. If she allowed herself to fall in love with Hopper, and then she lost him and everything else that was important to her, she wouldn't be who she knows herself as anymore. Loving him meant posing the risk of losing him. 

What she failed to realize was that she didn't have a choice. Her body was choosing him while her denial-stricken mind was pushing him away. Different parts of herself were at war with each other. Eventually, one of them would win. Her body could finally cave and accept him into her, or her mind could convince her that she needed to run away from him. 

She was drained. Fighting a war inside of herself that was taking every ounce of energy away from her. 

Everything was happening at the wrong time. If she had only been able to trust that everything would be okay, she would've happily jumped into his arms. Although, nothing in life was ever promised. Safety and security were not always going to be an option. She knew this, she had told it to herself a million times. 

_If you keep waiting for a promise that things will always be okay, you'll be waiting forever._

She could convince herself to take the risk if she tried hard enough. But she was tired of risk. Everything, every tiny little insignificant action she made was a risk now and she was tired of it. Tired of debating on what was worth jeopardizing and what wasn't.

"Hey," Hopper's soft voice pulled her mental attention. She didn't turn to look at him, she could only sit still and just manage to keep breathing. She had been sitting on the back porch swing for at least an hour, doing absolutely nothing but staring out at the water. So far lost in her thoughts that she was too tired to do anything else. 

"Hey," she replied softly, still refusing to look him in the eyes.

"I um," he pauses, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. She looked tired. So tired. "Um. Will mentioned something about visiting the turtle center and Elle kinda went insane with excitement. Figured you might want some space for a couple of hours, so I'm gonna take them if that's okay."

"Okay." her voice sounded monotonous, just as if it were a reflex of hers to answer when spoken too. A breath she had to forcibly push out in order to confirm that she could hear him. She wasn't present right now; her eyes were still locked on the waves from the second story porch, and so was her attention.

"I mean... unless you wanna go with us?" he offered.

She shook her head so softly that if he had blinked, he would've missed it. The bags around her eyes had reformed, her skin was red and puffy from either lack of sleep or crying; or both. He was too afraid to ask. She was lost in her own mind and he knew her well enough to know that this was something he couldn't necessarily bring her out of. 

He stared at her for a minute, standing in solemn silence. What had he done to hurt her? Maybe the more plausible question was what had she done to hurt herself? What thought had plagued her mind so badly that she was near catatonic? He wanted to lean down and take her lips into his. To kiss the sadness and the nightmares away from the woman who he no longer recognized. He knew he couldn't. That would make everything else worse. It would only confuse her even more. 

Instead, he leaned down and pressed a slow and steady kiss to the crown of her head. She didn't move, she didn't even flinch. Her eyes hadn't shifted away from the shoreline to meet his. She could only sit there, watching out over the deck. 

He loved her so much that it hurt. 

And it hurt him even worse to see her when she's in pain. 

His lips hadn't lingered long against her skin, and he was gone before she could even realize what had happened. It didn't feel like reality. Nothing did. It felt like she was living while stuck in a dream. Not because what was happening was a good thing, but because the world around her had felt warped and distorted. Nothing was quite the same as it was a week ago, or even thirty six hours ago. 

She hadn't slept at all last night, continuously replaying the events in her head. The entire day had been silent after that morning. Minimal contact, minimal activity, just isolation. She had stared at the walls through the darkness for the entire night, lucky enough to have slept three or four hours at the most. She kept tossing and turning, smelling his scent on her skin and on her blankets. It didn't help to know that he was on the other side of the wall doing the same exact thing.

She felt like she was going insane. She couldn't think, or sleep, or eat. Her mind was moving so fast but yet it seemed to stay completely still. A fucking puddle of melded thoughts in her head, driving her up a wall for twenty-four hours a day. Everything had to be a choice. Was she making the right choice? She didn't know. She didn't know anything anymore. One minute she tells herself she won't fall for him, and the next minute she's trying to convince herself that this isn't a good idea.

She can't love him. She just can't. If she does, it's a whole new magnitude of pain in her life. The same pain she has been running from for the past six months. Looking at him and seeing love means looking at him and seeing risk. She can't lose him. Not him or anybody else ever again. She was so fucking tired of the loss. 

But she knows just how deep she would be able to dive if she allowed herself to love him. She knows the depths of the trenches she would trudge through for him if she allowed herself to give in to him. He would be a shift in the axis of her world. Something so strong and cosmic that losing it would mean losing everything. 

She wanted to protect herself. Fat chance it seems since now she's hurting more than ever. 

Her eyes begin to well up with tears once again, any shred of mascara or eyeliner now completely cried away of her skin. Her breath is shaking with each exhale; her lower lip starts to quiver while her bare eyes stare out at the crashing waves. 

Home doesn't feel like home anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

"Why didn't Joyce come with us?" Elle asks innocently, walking beside Hopper up the pathway to the Turtle Museum. Will was already running up the pavement, more than excited to show Elle around one of his favorite new places.

He didn't want to tell her anything, not even some shoddy excuse. The kid loved Joyce like a mother and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the image Elle had of her. One thing he had learned about Elle was how much she hated seeing other people sad or crying. She instantly worries that she has done something to hurt and upset whoever is crying in front of her. Doc Owens told him that was one of the signs of the mental trauma she had endured in her years held captive. She couldn't handle seeing Joyce crying the way she was, it would break her heart. 

"She's uh... she's a little tired right now," he answered quietly. "She just wanted to stay back and rest, don't worry." 

Elle flashes him a nervous yet silent look. Another thing he had learned was that she was fiercely protective over the ones that she loved. The slightest threat against the family she had built from the dirt and she was on the front lines ready to fight. "But she's okay, right?"

 _God, I hope so._  Hopper stops in his footsteps, pausing to think of an answer that would calm Elle's mind. She deserved that much. Crouching down, he placed his hand on his shoulder and looked her in the eye. "Listen, kid. Joyce is going through a rough time right now.  She's sad and sometimes the best thing to do to help her is by giving her a little space."

Elle stares at him, knitting her eyebrows in confusion. "I don't understand. I thought when someone was sad you're supposed to do things to cheer them up... not leave them alone. When I'm sad, Mike doesn't leave me alone. He does something nice for me." 

Hopper sighs, shutting his eyes tight and taking a deep breath. "It's... complicated. Things like this aren't usually solved that way. She just needs time to think." 

She stares at him for a moment, pondering his words. "Dad... did you say something to upset her?" her voice comes out sadder and softer than he could've ever imagined. He was almost surprised by the lack of conviction in her words. No blame, no anger, just sadness. His chest burned with white fire as he stared back at her.

"I think I may have done more than that... but I'm gonna do what I can to fix it, alright? But I can't fix it until she's ready." his own words are daggers in his chest, stabbing, shooting pain within his ribs and stomach. 

The sad frown on Elle's face grew even more. "I don't want to lose her any more than I already have. Promise me that she's gonna be okay. Promise me." 

It was rare of Hopper to pull her in for a tight hug, but he felt as if the time called for it. Pulling her in his arms, he ran his hand through her curly hair. "I promise," he whispers before pulling back to look at her once more. "I won't leave until I make sure of it, okay?" 

The frown lets up from her expression, slowly forming into a soft smile. "Okay," she nods. "Let's catch up with Will, he said that they have real turtles here and sometimes you can watch the people feed them." her eyes blew up with happiness, earning a small laugh from Hopper as he rose from his crouch.

"As you wish," he mutters, ruffling his hand in her hair once again. "Why don't you pick out one of the plushy turtles from the gift shop to give to Joyce, huh?"

With a smile plastered on her face, she ran off to find Will. Hopper stayed back for a minute, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his lips. She was right. He was bested by a fourteen year old once again. None of them wanted to lose Joyce more than they already had, yet he was pushing her away with his actions. 

 

* * *

 

 

The steaming hot water of the shower rained down over Joyce, soaking every inch of her skin. The sticky dried saltwater was still stuck to her from yesterday and she couldn't stand it any longer. 

She had the entire house to herself for the first time in over a week and she hated it. It was too quiet. No kids running around, no more of Hopper's booming voice. Just eerie silence. At least the sound of the water rushing down over her could fill in the lack of noise. 

She was tired. Feeling herself rapidly falling down faster than she could pick herself up. The confusion was killing her. The doubt and paralyzing fear had begun stripping her of any energy that she had left. 

Her body was crying for him. For any of him that she could get. His scent, his touch, his body pressed against hers. Yet her mind argued so loudly in her ears. Her sub-conscious was losing the battle against her rapidly beating heart. She needed him. She needed to feel him.

She could still feel the tips of his fingers digging into the skin of her thighs. She had wanted him to grip her harder, electrifying every nerve within the lower half of her body. She had wanted to hear her name slipping from his lips, a cry of losing control. If she closed her eyes tight enough, she could still feel him. Hear him. Smell him. 

She should've kissed him. She should've lifted her head from the junction of his neck and shoulder and just fucking tasted him. She couldn't stop thinking about it, wondering what the stubble of his beard would've felt like against her face. Better yet, every inch of her skin. 

A moan that echoed off of the acoustic walls of the shower startled her before she realized it was coming from her own lungs. Her fingers had slipped between her legs without her even realizing. She wanted to stop, to pull her hand away and forget that this was happening. It was impossible though. It felt too good. The imagination of him felt too good. 

She had been so close yesterday. Inching towards falling off the edge, practically untouched. Only he could have that effect on her. Just the friction alone was more than enough. She replayed the event in her head at least a hundred times, thinking of all the things she had done wrong.

She should've shifted her hips just the right way and allowed herself to feel him rubbing against her. She should've let him slip inside of her, hitting every electrified nerve in her body. She should've never let him pull away; to convince him to touch every centimeter of skin on her body.  So many things she should've done when she had the chance. To kiss him, to grip him, to ride him into oblivion.

Her fingers were working furiously at her center while she shower continued pouring over her. The moans became louder with each passing moment and she became thankful that the house was empty. She wanted to stop; the voice in her head scolding her for letting herself succumb to the idea of him taking control over her. To make her forget the harshness of life for at least a few minutes. 

She thinks of all the things he would've done to her if the moment hadn't been stolen. He would've crashed his lips down on hers, marking them with his teeth. He would've laid her on her back, crawling down the bed and teased her with his tongue. She would've gripped the sheets as tight as possible with her fists before letting go to hold his head between her hands. 

She was getting closer and closer, her body quickly winning the battle against her mind. She slipped her fingers inside of her, feeling a sudden change between the moisture of the shower and her own arousal. In her mind, they were his fingers pushing in and out of her. 

The desperate cries escaping her lips grew louder as they bounced against the tiles, shaming her and egging her on at the same time. 

She would've kissed him harder when he came up between her legs. She'd taste herself on her lips, unable to get enough of it. Every inch of his back would be painted with scratch marks as she held onto him for dear life. He would swallow each of her moans with his mouth on hers, rocking her against the mattress with the pent up tension they had held for years. His pace would speed up as they both started hurdling towards their climaxes and —

 _"Ohhh,"_  she cried out, her legs shaking as she gripped the soap tray in the shower for dear life. The intensity nearly brought her to her knees, her mouth jaw stayed open but barely a squeak came out. The silent cry emitting from her lips quickly turned into a gasping sob as she buried her head into her hand. Shame and confusion; it was raining down onto her skin just as the water of the shower was. 

Her body was winning the war, leaving her mind to lie dead on the battlefield. Her instincts were taking over her every move, and she was dying inside.

 

* * *

 

  
  
  
_His phone had rung. The phone that almost nobody ever called, or even knew existed. Boxes were lying around the cabin, getting ready to be moved during the weekend to the Byers' old house... and the phone was ringing._

_He exchanged a worried glance at Elle, both of them feeling their hearts speed up just a little. Elle used her SuperCom to talk to her friends, so the phone use was limited. Two people had this phone number. Flo — in case of emergencies because he absolutely would not give this number to either of his dipshit deputies. and Joyce. She had been gone for two weeks without a single phone call._

_The odds weren't exactly 50/50._

_He nodded his head towards the bedroom door, giving Elle the signal to hide and stay silent. Just in case._ _'Just in case' had become their slogan._

_Taking the ringing phone off of the hook, pressing it to his ear to listen for a moment. "Hello?" he answered cautiously, biting his lip whilst waiting for a response from the quiet end of the line._

_"Hey, Hop."_

_He knew that voice. That whispering, soft little voice that could be oh so loud if it wanted to. The voice that calmed his nerves and could grow a smile on his face almost instantly. His brows furrowed as his eyes clamped shut, terrified that he might actually cry with relief._

_"Joyce," he breathed, his voice nearly hitching in his throat. Two weeks without hearing that voice. Two weeks of wondering if he would ever hear it again. His heart was hammering and he couldn't get a single decent breath into his lungs._

_"Sorry for calling so late. I just um..." she paused and his heart did too. "I-I'm sorry for not calling sooner. I don't really have an excuse." she hadn't called because she had spent two weeks wondering if she even should call. If Hopper would just be another sacrifice added to the list._

_"It's okay." his words rushing out to comfort her. "It's okay. I'm glad you called at all."_

_No, he wouldn't be another sacrifice._

_"So, how are things up there?" she asked awkwardly. To be entirely truthful, she wasn't sure if she even wanted to know. She was calling for Hopper, not for Hawkins. But she wasn't going to forgo her politeness as an act of selfishness._

_He struggled to find the right answer. He wasn't sure, to be honest.  He wasn't paying attention to how things were around him. "Good," he lied right through his teeth. Things were not good, but it wasn't worth making her worry even more. If anything, things were in limbo right now. Not good, not bad, just up in the air.  
_

_"Good," she responded, exhaling a shaky breath as she did. He could only imagine what she was doing right now. She was standing with her side pressed up against the wall, cradling the phone with on hand and her other hand wrapped around her torso with her fingers digging into her hips._

_"So," he gulped. "How are things at the new place? You comfortable there?" he hated this. Small talk. Since when did they ever have small talk? Nothing they ever talked about was small or insignificant. If they were talking, it was usually about something that could very well end up being the basis of doomsday. Now, they might as well just be strangers in an elevator talking about the fucking weather._

_"Yeah. Yeah, it's nice._ _You're always... uh, less than a mile or two from the beach. It's nice." she was lying, the beach was in her backyard and she loved it. She was in pain, but she loved it there._

_The line stayed silent between them for a moment, neither of them quite sure what to say or do._

_Two whole weeks. No letters, no calls, no nothing._

_"Hey, Joyce?" that static of the phone line wrapped around his voice, but it was still so familiar in her ears._

_She fought back the tears that burned in her eyes. "Yeah?" she whispered, her voice so full of hope that it almost hurt._

_"I miss you," he admitted quietly, yet his words were strong. They sounded as easy as the wind, but the sentiment behind them was as thick as steel. Impenetrable._

_He means it. She knows this._

_"I miss you too, Hop."_

 

* * *

 

 

When he comes home, the house is still and silent. He's clutching tightly onto the plush turtle that Elle picked out for Joyce. She's somewhere in the house, probably staring endlessly at the walls. 

She is confused. She doesn't handle confusion well. 

He sees her declination. He sees her confusion, her stress, her anxiety as it eats her up just as it had done in Hawkins. Maybe she wasn't able to run away from it because it had followed her.  _He_  had followed her. 

But if he left today, packed up everything he came with and just left, it would also do her harm. There wasn't a right choice to make. If he stays, she hurts. If he leaves, she hurts. 

Now he could see the tip of the iceberg of the way she felt when she had to make all of those choices that didn't have a right answer. She was searching for validation in her actions of leaving, but maybe there wasn't any absolute non-variable validation to give.

It stings and he almost feels guilty for being in pain over it since it couldn't even compare to what she had felt. The choices that she had survived. 

He was losing her again. She was right in front of him, but she was fading away. Her mind was bouncing with unwanted thoughts and emotions and she was just crumbling. He didn't want this for her. Fuck, he hadn't wanted any of this for them. 

He wouldn't be her downfall. He refused. He wouldn't be the beginning of an unhealable wound on her soul. Not if he had a damn thing to do with it. Everything they had, everything they had built together had crumbled into ash and dust, he wouldn't let go of the tiny sliver of Joyce that he still had left. 

She was the type of person who made sacrifices that she had to make. He wasn't. He would go to the ends of the Earth to make sure things worked out. He knew that teaching Elle about compromise was a valuable lesson, but he would not compromise with Joyce.

Not anymore.

He would not let the riptide take her away from him. 

He was tired of sacrifice, and so was she. 

His fists curled up at his sides, his breathing beginning to accelerate with nervousness. He was going to set this straight, teach the world a lesson on what it was like to take something that he loved away from him. He would not submit to this. Not anymore.

With each step he took, the stairs creaked; it was the anthem of laying this bullshit to bed. No more sacrifice. No more compromise. No more slipping away in front of his eyes. He wanted to scream it as loud as he could, alerting any God that would listen that he was done playing games.

"Joyce," he called out as he knocked on her closed bedroom door. His voice was sharp and angry, ready to take charge once again. No response came from the other side of the door. He didn't knock this time, instead, he opened the door and barged in.

"We need to talk. Now."


	10. Chapter Ten - The Breakdown Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce's mental state continues to decline before an argument erupts, while a massive storm takes over the island.
> 
> Song of the chapter: Stay by Rihanna

Giving in to the pain. Allowing yourself to drown in it. It seems so easy to do.  

Drowning is the easy part. Right as the world begins to fade to black and your instinct to fight the water off from your lungs eases, it's quick. It's painful but it's quick. No, staying alive is the hard part. No matter how cold you are, the warmth you feel is incredible. The feeling of a soft, warm blanket being laid over your chest, slowly lulling you to sleep. That's the hard part. Fighting. Choosing to feel cold instead of warm because you know the warmth is the feeling of giving in. It seems so easy to let it in, let the heat envelop you. The world seems so far away, so out of reach; but you don't care. Your soul is being tugged away from your lifeless body, carried by the rays of the sun. The return is the fight. Crawling back down through the hollow and calming tunnels that you feel yourself being lifted through. 

Drowning is easy, fighting to live is harder. It takes persistence, every ounce of willpower and strength that you could conjure up. It seems so alluring to give in, let that perfect heat take you away from the world. But then you hear the faint voices becoming quieter and quieter as you go. They're calling for you. ' _Stay with me!'_  But how can you? How can you stay when the world is so cold but death is so warm? But no matter what, no matter how hard you try, you can't let the riptide wash away everything you've ever learned to love. 

 

* * *

 

 

** Six Hours Earlier **

 

"We need to talk. Now." his voice was a command and she wasn't listening. She was staring lifelessly at the empty wall. Lost and wandering in the cold and lonely void of her thoughts. She was too tired to fight or put up her defenses. Too tired to be called out on how badly she was currently lacking. 

"Don't wanna talk," she whispers, her voice hoarse and dried from crying. There is no focus in her eyes, at least not as far as he could see. Only complete emptiness occupying her mind and body. There is a vast land of nothingness behind her eyes, her stare could go on for miles. 

He was growing angrier by the moment. White knuckles and forced breathing, he's done taking orders from fate and life. He's done watching her turn into a shell of who she once was. The sacrifice, the heartache, all of it; it's over. He's reached his breaking point and it's fucking over. 

"Fine," he replies bitterly. "I'll do the talking. What the hell are you doing, Joyce?" he spits out, fire burning in his stomach, radiating through his body and out through his fingertips. 

Her jaw drops barely a centimeter, but he can see it. The life flows back into her eyes but this time, it's anger. It's unfathomable, untouchable, unquenchable anger and she's burning up. "Me?" she spits out incredulously. Her legs swing out from under the covers and she's moving to stand up in front of him. " _Me?_  What am I doing? You're fucking joking, right?" the volume of her voice is rising quickly, and she feels herself losing control of the situation.

"Do you see me laughing?" he retorts, refusing to back down. The sarcasm is dripping from his words, only fueling her fire even more. She's getting closer to him, but his feet are planted firmly on the ground, unmoving. "You're changing! God, every day it's like you're a different person! So yes, what the hell are you doing?"

"First, you're angry at me for moving. I get that. Next, you try to convince me that you aren't angry. Then, you're flirting with me like I'm one of your bar crawling girlfriends. After that, you're suddenly not interested in me anymore. And you want to know what the fuck  _I'm_  doing?" she's seething angry, and he half expects to see steam come out of her ears. "Let me ask you something, Hopper. What are you even doing here?"

He's staring down at her like he's staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. "First of all, none of that is true. None of it." he bites. "What I'm doing here is spending time with someone whom I care for deeply. Someone who doesn't seem to even acknowledge my existence anymore because she's too busy hiding herself from the world!" 

"You've been angry at me since day one for leaving." her voice is quieter now, but her face is still drenched in anger. "You aren't over it. You don't understand it. You're here with a grudge, you just won't admit it."

"Oh, you wanna know why I'm angry, huh?" he steps closer towards her, his voice booming. "I'm mad as hell, you're right. I'm mad because while I was busy falling in love with you, you were packing up and moving hundreds of miles away. You felt it too, I know you did. But you're not very good at pretending otherwise; you think you are but you're not. So sit and think about it if the tables were turned, you'd be pissed to fucking hell if I left you high and dry!" 

She doesn't love him, she tells herself. The lies continue, and they're becoming clearer to her with each passing moment. The denial is fading away, but she's fighting with every ounce of herself to keep up the façade. To keep telling herself that she isn't feeling what she's feeling for him, despite what her body says otherwise. 

"You think I left because I wanted to? You think I wanted to give up my home and my life and my job and my family? Just because you chose your home over safety doesn't mean that I have to as well! You can keep pretending like nothing bad ever happens in Hawkins, Hopper, but some of us aren't naïve enough to sit around and wait for trouble! You know, I hate to break it to you, but you didn't lose a damn thing during those times. You gained a daughter instead. Some of us weren't as lucky. For fuck's sake, look at the Hollands! And also, where the fuck are you getting this sudden egotistical attitude from?" 

"I could've kept you safe, Joyce!" he shouts, the veins in his neck beginning to strain against his skin. "You didn't have to leave all of us behind and pretend that we didn't exist anymore!" 

"When will you get it through your thick skull that you can't protect everybody? You're just a man, Hopper. You're not Superman, you're not God. You can't keep everybody safe! I should be able to protect my own damn son without your help!" her skin is bright red from the rising of her voice, and her throat feels like she's been stabbed with a burning spear. It doesn't matter. None of it fucking matters because it's been sitting on her chest for too damn long. 

"Tell me you never wondered, Joyce. Look me in my eyes and tell me."

"Wondered what?" 

"Fucking Christ." He palms his face, trying to force himself to breathe because the anger is holding his breath for him. "Us, Joyce. Us. Tell me it never even crossed your mind!" he's ordering a response from her, but he isn't quite sure if he's going to receive it. 

She's staring at him and it feels like she's forgotten to blink. She can't tell him the truth. She just can't. She can't lie to him either. She's cornered and once again, she's forced to make a choice that can't be measured by right or wrong.

"Hopper —"

"Lie to me, Joyce. Lie to my face and tell me that you didn't feel what I felt because either way, I know the truth and so do you. So, go ahead. Lie to me."

He's toe to toe with her now, and for the first time ever, she feels incredibly small underneath of him. She was always able to hold her own, fight her battles and win them. But now he was holding up a mirror to her vulnerabilities, he wasn't backing down either. 

She's not in love with him, she pleads to herself. She can't be in love with him. She's begging herself to say it isn't true and the walls of defense are going down faster than she can put them up. 

"You're scared to admit this is about love. That any of it is about love. Because you know how deep it goes, Joyce. You can pretend that you don't feel it too, but I know you and I know that you aren't that good at lying to yourself. You don't have to love me back, alright? Not if you don't want to. But for Christ's sake, you're killing yourself over this!" 

"You have no idea how I feel," she grumbles, the tiredness seeping back into her eyes. "No idea what I'm going through or what I'm thinking." Two faces, changing within one another without a moments notice. One minute she's angry, and the next she is dead inside once again. "And you never will." 

Frustration rises through him and he's almost certain he's going to implode from it. He's angry and he's tired of this. Tired of losing everything to the fear that surrounds them. Tired of pretending like he wasn't a victim too.

"Fine. Let me ask you something, Joyce. You came here to heal, right?" he grits out in a low voice, stepping closer to her. "Are you healed? Or are you just distracted?" 

She stops and stares at him, feeling every ounce of air in her lungs escape and replaced with fury. "Get out," she breathes, her voice barely an octave higher than complete silence. 

"Joyce —"

"GET OUT!" she screams as loudly as her voice can go before pulling her head into her hands. Too much was happening and she was panicking. The denial was snapping in half and she could barely fight it anymore. It hurt too much. God, everything fucking hurt too much. She doesn't love him, she tells herself. No. No, she doesn't. Loving him would mean losing him and she can't fucking lose him too. Yet, she is losing him anyways. Half of her is pushing him away while the other half is begging him not to leave. 

Before she can blink, he's out of her bedroom and she's pressed her body up against the wall; shaking and crying with no control over herself. She's breaking. 

She's breaking so badly and the denial is raining down in shattered little pieces.

And then it clicked. It finally made sense.

_He's in love with you._

_And you're in love with him._

_He is fighting for you._

_Just you._

_Only you._

_And he isn't going to give up unless you force him to._

_You're turning him away. Forever._

And the denial was replaced with fear. Bone crushing, stomach-churning fear. 

 

* * *

 

 

He's staring down at his suitcase which is lying on the bed. His anger is replaced with silence. Emptiness. Exhaustion.

The bag isn't going to pack itself.

But he can't move his arms or his legs or any other part of his body. He's frozen. He isn't sure how to tell Elle that they're leaving, but he'll have to tell her soon. She'll need to pack her things and say goodbye, leaving her to wonder if she'll ever see Will again.

He fucked up. God, he fucked up so badly. He pushed her yet again, and he was paying the price. His mouth goes dry at the simple thought of this coming to an end. All of it, every moment they spent together, every shared cigarette, it's ending. Suddenly, every bone in his body aches. 

She'll be okay without him, he thinks. Her skin will grow tan from the healthy doses of the sun, she'll be able to sleep again, she will be just fine. 

Maybe he will be too. Maybe if he's lucky enough, he'll forget about all of this. He'll wake up one morning without the pang in his chest and the constant questions about Joyce coming from Elle. A memory. This is becoming a memory in front of his eyes; a rare occurrence most people don't see until it's over with. But he's here, in this very moment, watching the present turn into the past. 

Like a wave washing over an engraving in the sand, this will be gone forever. 

His luggage is still half unpacked, mocking him as it stares back at him. The sound of the waves crashing in the distance seems to grow through the silence,  _how ironic._  He doesn't want to hear the beach or the ocean or the people around it. He doesn't want any reminders. All of it can go to hell. 

The silence within him is suddenly filled with a burst of red hot anger and destructive heartbreak.

No. No, he can't handle this. He can't handle the rejection and the heartbreak and all of the empty stomach, dry heaving pain that will come along. He can't hear her turn him away or else he will break. He will shatter into a million pieces as he watches the one thing he's been living for crumble. He refuses. He should've never come here. He should've never gotten his hopes up or his heart set. 

Stupid! God damn stupid of him to think that the universe would allow him just an ounce of love. He should've let her leave, run off into the sunset to wherever it was she needed to be. He should've let her go on his own terms, but he didn't. He gambled too hard and put everything on the line when he knew he shouldn't have. He shouldn't have chased her. Fuck, he should've known better. 

Before he can stop himself or really even understand what he's doing, he's on the ground. His head is cradled in his hands and he realizes that the gasping sobs he's hearing are coming from him and only him. He doesn't cry easily, but he's crying and he can't stop. 

When Sara had died, crying became as easy as breathing. But that wasn't his life anymore. He thought that didn't cry over anything now. The tears that were now soaking his hands were proving him wrong. 

How could he have been so stupid? How did he not possibly know that cornering Joyce wouldn't get him what he wanted, it would only cause her to retaliate. 

What he had done to her was not love, it was force, and he hated himself for it. He let his anger spew words of manipulation and toxicity. She had enough of that with Lonnie, he couldn't do that to her. He hurt her, and it was too late to fix it. 

The best thing he could do to fix this was to leave. To do the one thing she asked him to do and just get out before he could hurt her even more. 

And suddenly, his luggage was starting to fill back up with the clothes it was previously packed with. 

 

* * *

 

 

She was staring again. Her eyes unblinking; lifeless. The thousand-yard stare as she stayed sitting on the floor, her back curled into the corner of the wall. 

Everything happened so fast, she barely remembered what either of them had said. All she knew was that her chest was filled with incredible pain and every move she made was on auto-pilot. Every blink, every breath, everything. 

She wanted to melt into the floorboard, to just turn to dust. 

Everything had changed within moments. Explosive and pent up emotions flying at impeccable speed, ricocheting off the walls and into each other's hearts like bullets. They both said things that they didn't mean. Then there were the words that they meant but they didn't say. 

This was it, the final string being cut. The last tie to Hawkins that she'll ever have will sever today. 

She loved him. She didn't want to. Love meant pain and she was so tired of feeling pain. Pain followed her everywhere now, the last thing she wanted was to feel pain over Hopper. But this wasn't just pain, it was fear. If she loved him, she had something to lose. The universe always seemed to take advantage of when she had something to lose. 

She had loved Bob... sort of. She was growing closer and closer to loving him, and the devils running around on Earth had taken that from her. But it was different with Hopper. She already loved him. There was no working towards it, there was no extra mile she still had to go. She loved him more than she wanted to admit. Losing Bob was incredibly painful, but losing Hopper would be unimaginable. 

Maybe that was why she had pushed him away to begin with. To practice what it would be like when she inevitably lost him. Because that was what it was. Inevitable. Everything was in their world. She left before he could leave her. 

But what she had really done was abandon him... and she knew that now.

The truth she was coming to know was that the war between her mind and her body wasn't really a war at all. It was a battle. The real war was between loving him and losing him. An indescribably painful war that she was losing.

_'This world wasn't made for people like me. This world goes too fast. Too much danger, too much risk. But this is the one place away from the world. It moves slower. Steadier.'_

That was no longer the case. The world moved as fast as it wanted to, no place was safe from the shift of speed. Everything had happened so quickly. He was sitting on her porch at midnight, reuniting after six months apart. Between a blink, they were dancing in the ocean after a romantic dinner together. It was too fast. The wheels were turning and the clocks were ticking and it was all so fucking fast.  _Just slow down,_  she pleaded into the silence. 

 

* * *

 

 

He wasn't sure if the thunder and lightning he was hearing was in his head. Maybe it was real. He couldn't be bothered to look. He didn't care. It didn't matter. 

His legs felt like lead as he crept downstairs. He needed to tell Elle that they were leaving. She would kick and scream and cry, probably float a few frames off the wall in anger. It didn't matter, she needed to know. 

Nothing mattered.

Part of him was tempted to pack her bags for her, at least that would probably stall part of the temper tantrum that was to come soon. No, he was too tired for this. 

When he walked in the living room, the two kids were huddled around the television in silence. He couldn't see what they were watching, he really didn't care either. Another loud crack of thunder sounded, but he still wasn't convinced that it was coming from outside. It had to be coming from inside of his chest. Only such a heinous sound could describe the agonizing pain inside of him. 

"Elle," he called out quietly, unaware of how hoarse and sore his voice sounded. "Go pack your bag. We're leaving," 

When she turned to look at him, he could already sense the oncoming event. He was half tempted to duck and hide while she processed his words. "No." she stated simply, turning back to look at the television.

"This isn't up for debate, go pack now." he tried again. 

"Chief," Will chimed in. "She's serious, you can't leave. There's a storm outside and they've shut down the causeway because of flooding. Come look." he motioned towards the TV. Hopper moved closer, squinting his eyes to get a better look. 

_'This afternoon, citizens of Glynn County were struck with a surprise storm that hadn't been picked up by local forecasts. The wind has reached up to 60mph and it's estimated that flooding will occur. Glynn County has elected to shut down the causeway between Jekyll Island, St. Simon's Island, Sea Island, and Brunswick as a precautionary measure. We'll have more updates on the weather soon. Stay safe folks.'_

"Son of a bitch," Hopper mumbled under his breath, exhaling the frustration that sat in his lungs. "You still need to pack. We're leaving as soon as the storm clears up." 

"Why?" Elle retorted, looking at him with an incredibly hurt expression. 

He wasn't in the mood to explain himself or all of the reasons why he had fucked both of their lives up for good. He didn't have the heart to tell her that Joyce didn't want him here anymore. That he had hurt her. He hurt the only motherly person in his daughter's life with his words. 

"It doesn't matter." 

* * *

 

 

Hours had passed and the storm showed no signs of letting up soon. The forecast was only becoming bleaker with every update. Words about the possibility of a tropical storm were passed around and panic was rising through the island. 

He didn't want to leave. He knew that if he told Joyce that, it would only erupt into a further argument which was the last thing he wanted. But for now, she would just have to accept the fact that he's here until the storm let up. 

His stomach grumbles from hunger and he realizes that he can't remember the last time he ate a decent meal. Mindlessly, he wandering towards the kitchen, he catches a glimpse out through the window. The palm trees are rattling furiously in the wind and the sky has shifted into a dark and ominous gray. 

He freezes when something catches his eye. 

Something is in the water. Far out, wading closer and closer to the center. Who in their right mind would be in the water during a storm? 

He squints his eyes, leaning in towards the window to get a better view.

_No._

The word ghosts over his lips almost silently. His fists clench in dreadful fear and all of the air begins to leave his lungs.

His feet begin running before he even realizes what he's doing. 

It's Joyce. 

He hadn't even heard her leave, she must've snuck out through the back.  _No. No No No!_

As fast as his feet can carry him, he's out the door and on his way into the belly of the storm.


	11. Chapter Eleven - The Breakdown Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce faces the ultimate decision between her and Hopper, while nearly risking her life in the process.
> 
> Song of the chapter: You are a Memory by Message to Bears

Sanity isn't what we think it is. Sanity is a thin string, bound between what keeps us together and what breaks us entirely. Sanity is a tight rope that we walk upon every single day. Over time, events that are big or small can begin to fray that wire. Moments that we stack up in our minds, compartmentalizing them as they get heavier and heavier. The small barbs begin to separate and that tightrope gets weaker and weaker. 

We keep pushing it, stepping down harder in the weakest spots; seeing how far we can test our limits. An endless game of tug-o-war. How far can you go? How much can you take before that string snaps and you go hurdling towards a mindset that you can't return from? How much pain can you handle before you throw in the towel and decide that you no longer wish to know the difference between fantasy and reality? Until you simply can not stomach another thought of losing something, breaking something, or hurting even just a little bit more. Until your chest begins to heave and cave in within itself.

How much does it take? 

Can our own thoughts drive us to that point? Even just the thought of having such a profoundly painful loss of something you can't live without. Is that enough to snap the binding? Is that enough to go dead behind the eyes and live out the rest of your days being entirely shattered? How much sacrifice does it take to push you over the ledge? To give up every single goddamn thing you've ever loved, just to have to sacrifice even more of it. 

She's enveloped into the waves of the water. The rocking, smashing, rolling waves that are angered by the storm above them. She's alone, but she's not lonely. It's her and the water, just as it always has been. As far as the miles of sand stretches, it's just her. Nobody in their right mind would be outside right now, but she isn't in her right mind.

The water is frigid, splashing sharp and cold water against her skin like daggers. The salt in the water is burning her eyes because she doesn't think to close them as the waves hit her face. Every inch of her is sodden with the icy ocean, but she has never felt more at home. 

Maybe this is where she was meant to end up, she thinks. Barely hanging on to the ground as the storm thrashes over the water. Maybe this was where she was meant to be. Nothing makes sense like it does when she's by the water, but now nothing makes sense in general. 

Her veins feel as if they've been filled with coolant, blistering cold. There is nowhere left to run, she's outrun every place she could possibly go. No more escapes, no more homes, this is as far as she could go. 

She feels almost serene, although she is teetering on the line between life and death; leaving her fate up to the ocean. Nature is now who holds her life in its hands. But she hears his voice, it's echoing in the back of her head. God, it always does. Taunting her. Reminding her. 

_"Running away will not solve your problems, Joyce. It never has before, and it never will! So go ahead, run. Run for your fucking life but don't call me when you reach the edge of the Earth and you find that all of your problems followed you there!"_

Breaking her. 

She couldn't help it. She was just so tired. She was sleepwalking everywhere now; awake but not present. Losing herself to the feeling of the surrounding haziness. She was burnt out, mentally. Falling asleep every night and waking up to a screaming nightmare. Something new. Something different. Another monster, another life taken, another round of grief. 

In the water, she is solitary. She's not a mother. She's not the love of someone's life. She's not an ex-wife. She is not a victim. She's not burdened by grief or the things she has seen and survived. She's only existent on a universal plane of what lies under her skin. She is bones and a soul. Everything else is stripped away. The scars are gone, the trauma is no longer existent, and within the water, she is once again the clean slate she was born as. 

Even with the bitter rain and polar water, she feels warmer. The waves aren't so sharp against her skin and she's adjusting to the temperature. She can't see how her lips are turning blue and the nerves in her body have restricted in fear of becoming hypothermic. She feels warm, but her body is turning into ice. 

She can't love him. She can't. Plain and simple. Loving him would change everything. The world would shift off of its axis and life as she knew it would cease to exist. Loving him meant change. She had changed enough already. She didn't want to love him. 

Loving him would kill her more than she's already killing herself. 

She wants to disintegrate into the water. To fall to nothing but ashes in the sand. Wash away into the void of water that owned the Earth it took residence upon. This life was becoming too hard to live. So much pain, she wanted to be numb. The water was acting as a novocaine to her skin, but her soul still needed relief.

Burning out. 

The wire is snapping. 

The waves were crashing harder now and she was begging them to swallow her up whole. She didn't want to die, she just didn't want to continue living a life that only meant pain and suffering. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. 

_'You're so brave for what you've gone through'_

_'No, no I did not choose this. I did not want this. I did not ask for a life where I needed to be brave in order to survive. I do not want to be brave anymore!'_

Deep in the back of her mind, the shred of sanity that remained inside of her begged her to return to the shore. It was too late, she was too tired. Her extremities felt like weighted bags of sand, pulling her down further. The water could do as it pleased to her, she no longer cared. 

Caring meant pain. Love meant pain. Every goddamn thing meant pain.

The question begged to be answered; is a life of pain a life worth living?

Some would say yes. Some would say no. But it no longer mattered what those people would say. They weren't her. They hadn't felt their entire world slip through their fingers and out of their control. They didn't understand! She did. She understood now.

The ocean she had come to find a friend in was no longer present. The storming clouds of rain and lightning had possessed it, and this was not the sea that she knew. This was unrelenting, furious, harsh water. It had her in its grip, pulling her closer and closer to its center. Her head would be under water soon, and the breath in her lungs would cease to exist.

_Hopper, I'm so sorry._

She had seen enough of this life to know what it held. Miracles existed, but so did tragedy. She loved him, but trauma ran through her blood and she couldn't pass it on to him. Not if she really loved him. He was not a knight in shining armor, impenetrable by any source of pain. He was human, just like her. He had limits. The pain she lived with would spill over into him and exceed those limits. She was doing him a favor. 

_I'm so sorry, Hopper. I want to let go now._

She hadn't walked out into the ocean with the intentions to die. She walked out to allow the universe to make up its mind. To offer it a chance to pull the plug for good and end her pain. It wasn't up to her, it was up to fate now. Destiny would decide if she stayed or if she went.

Loving him meant risking him. Everything she ever became attached was at risk. She spent so much time devising every next move she would make to eliminate the risk. That wasn't a way to live, not by any of her standards. She was tired of walking on eggshells, fearful she would piss off God if she made the wrong move. 

_No more punishment._

She realizes that she's crying. She's been crying since her feet first touched the sand. The tears were filled with every throbbing shred of grief she had survived. Everything she had buried and bottled up deep inside of herself. Bursting at the seams, no more room left for it to fester.

The crying turns hysterical and she's losing air faster than she can breathe it in. She's giving in,  not giving up. This is what the world has wanted from her. Pushing cruelty onto her until she just gives into it. Nights she had spent pounding her fists against the walls, screaming and sobbing for the world to just let her have back her child. To return Bob to her. To just let go of the chokehold it had her in. 

The wire frays even more, just a single strand left before it snaps.

Some people lived their lives without experiencing any sort of tragedy or trauma whatsoever. She was taking the bulk of it. Maybe the universe had unloaded it onto her so some lucky soul could live a life worth living. She was the one going up to bat to handle more than anybody should ever experience in one lifetime. 

_I'm sorry that I love you. I don't want to hurt you._

Her legs feel non-existent now, completely paralyzed from the chilly waves. If she had any sanity left, she'd use whatever willpower she had left and run for the shoreline. Except that she's comfortable here. The numbness is replacing the pain for the first time in a long time. But no matter how cold the water could be, her heart would still ache. The grief would still swallow her up. The anxiety would still chew away at her until she was but a shell of a human.

It never dawned on her that maybe the universe was offering her a chance with Hopper. A reward for the pain she had endured. Something to make up for everything. That didn't make any sense. Why would the world torture her to her limits just to give her a hand wrapped gift? No. The universe didn't work that way and it certainly wouldn't work that way for her. 

 _I'm scared I'll lose you if I love you._   

_But I've always loved you, even if I didn't realize it._

She hears an echo of her name being called, but she refuses to look behind her. It's probably just the hypothermia talking. It's a hallucination. He won't come to her rescue, she already knows. Her name is lost to the sound of cracking thunder. 

_Joyce!_

She won't look. She won't fall for it. The universe is playing games with her, testing her. If she turns, she fails. She isn't allowed to love anything anymore. It will be taken away from her the moment she shows weakness towards it. The universe is watching her every move under a microscope now. She can't risk him.

"Joyce!" 

The calls are getting louder, but she's so far out from shore that it falls on deaf ears. The waves are rising higher, nearly reaching her entire height. It's going to swallow her up soon, she can feel it. She wants to float away into the water, let it take her in. To grip each inch of her skin and freeze her into nothing but ice. 

Her tears are falling harder now, and even her own sobs aren't loud enough to overpower the sound of the storm. Her chest is caving in with each hysterical wail. She's inching closer and closer to the end, it feels just within reach of her fingertips. She could've never imagined just how badly she would want to be held in the final moments. To be wrapped up in someone's arms while the world finally took its last toll on her.

But instead, the freezing waves hold her. They rock her back and forth, reminding her of just how exhausted she truly is; how lonely she actually feels. 

_I'm sorry._

Suddenly, she feels herself being wrapped up into familiar strong and warm arms. Just when she thought she couldn't cry any harder, she doubled over into the grasp around her and bawled. His body was still warm and his voice was in her ear. 

"I've got you. Joyce, it's okay. I've got you," he repeated, burying his head into her freezing shoulder. She was colder than the water itself, but he couldn't focus on that. All he could hear were her deafening cries overpowering the sound of the cracking thunder.

His arms pull her as close to him as she could possibly get, and she can't stop the hysterical bellowing of her cry. "Joy, look at me." he tries to turn her around and as soon as she does, she collapses into him, gripping at his shirt with every ounce of strength she had left inside of her. 

"Let me go!" she sobs, but her words contradict her actions because her body is clinging to him. Her fists pound on his chest, guttural grief-filled screams erupting from inside of her. He pulls her closer, gripping her as tight as he possibly can. She needs to hear his heart beating with her ear against his chest. She needs to feel how deeply he loves her. 

"I'm not going anywhere." she can hear that his own tears are falling just by the breaking sound of his voice. "I'm not leaving you here. Look at me, I've got you, sweetheart." his words repeat over and over, praying that they break through to her. The mantra is drowning into the volume of the angry waves, but he knows that she can hear him. She said he wasn't a superhero. She was right. But that didn't stop him from trying to be one. At least for her. 

"I'm so scared!" she wails with her voice filled with devastation, the tears falling faster and faster with each moment passing. She's terrifying him with how broken she seems. Like the world has caved in on her and all of the hope that has ever existed in the world is gone. 

"Shh, it's okay." he reaches down and pulls her face into his hands, looking into her eyes. His voice is just loud enough for her to hear over the breaking water. "I get that you're scared, okay? I really do. You've watched your whole world go up into flames right in front of your eyes so many times and there wasn't much you could do to extinguish it." 

She struggles to catch her breath,  watching him as his own tears stream down his face.

"But I don't want you to be scared. This world is too scary for you and nobody knows that more than I do. But I'm not going to hurt you, Joyce. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you again if you would just trust me.  _Just trust me!_ " 

He's begging for her to live just as she was begging to die. She sees herself as the black hole that kills everything in its path. He's right. Nobody knows that more than she does. She's fucking terrified that the shitstorm that follows her will take him out too. She can't lose him, she just can't. She could survive a lot of things, but losing him would end her. 

She's grieving for something she hasn't even lost yet. Something that she is petrified of losing. 

But she loves him. God help her, she loves him with every fiber of her being. She couldn't remember a time that she didn't love him. In fact, love didn't describe it. Not even a little bit. Not even close. The denial is gone now, but everything she once felt was now embodied by fear. Loving Will nearly got him killed. Loving Bob had taken his life. No.  _No._

She feels him shivering against her, both of their clothes completely immersed in the freezing water. He's still so warm compared to her. Her skin is like ice and she has no clue just how long she has been standing in the epicenter of the storm. 

_Giving in to the pain. Allowing yourself to drown in it. It seems so easy to do._

He won't allow her to do that, no matter how easy it may seem. 

His forehead is pressed to hers and staring her down no longer feels like staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Instead, he's staring into the eyes of the storm. The beautiful, devastating storm that isn't really a storm at all. It's a person.  _She_  is a person. The only one on Earth who could ever make any sort of sense to him. Her. Always her. 

He sees the pain in her eyes, everything that has built up over the years is pouring out at an impeccable speed. She hadn't come here to heal, she had come here to die. 

He had pulled her off of his body the other day because he thought that she wasn't ready. That was only half true. Her body was ready, but her mind was not. She was still busy fighting the battle that nearly pushed her to her demise. The battle was like a lot like the storm they were standing in; building and building until it broke. 

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her tears falling without force. Her eyes close and she's gently shaking her head against his, wondering why she even dared to pull him into this. Why she had even invited him out knowing that he would see a side of her that she wanted nobody to see. To hide. 

She's repeating her apology over and over, but he doesn't need it. He doesn't want it. She has nothing to be sorry for. "Stop, apologizing," he breathes. He knows that the storm is still above them, but he no longer recognizes it. It's just them, standing in the freezing cold water. "Don't apologize."

"I'm so sorry." she's whimpering now, and it's breaking his heart to see her lips curl outward into sadness. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," her voice strains and he could swear that he feels the same exact pain she's feeling. 

Her apologies keep coming with no intent to stop, but he leans down and swallows her words. His lips are on hers, breaking the one ounce of space they had left between them.  _Finally._  He can taste the salt water on her hypothermic lips from the violently splashing waves, but he can taste her too. 

_God, she's magnificent._

Instead of pulling away, she finally allows herself to kiss him back. There was a promise on his lips, communicated in the only way he knew she would understand them. _I'll keep you safe. I'll be here. I won't let you go._  

And she believes it. For once in her miserable life, she believes him. 

He's had enough of the frigid water, and he knows she has too. With the strength he still had left inside of him, he sweeps her cold body up into his arms. Her arms cling around his neck, her head resting on his chest while listening to his furiously beating heart. 

She had offered herself to the riptide once again, but it had refused her. Instead, the universe offered her help for the first time in a very long time. 

This time, wrapped up in his arms, she accepted the help she was given. 

She was in love with him, and that was okay. 

 


	12. Chapter Twelve - The Rebuilding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the storm, Joyce and Hopper work out some of their tension
> 
> Song of the Chapter: Don't Forget About Me by CLOVES

_'And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm is all about.'   —_ Haruki Murakami

 

* * *

 

Their clothes were equally soaked from the rocky waves of the ocean. Dripping with each step they took into the house, leaving a trail behind them. Each droplet was filled with the words and the actions that they had left in the ocean.

She broke. He was going to fix her. 

The house was eerily quiet, growing darker as the sun was setting in the west. Only the sounds of heavy breathing and squelching wet shoes filling the silence. Her head was still buried in his chest as he carried her.

When he imagined carrying her bridal style someday, he would've never thought that it would be like this. Shivering cold and completely cried out of any tears they had left. Her hands clutching to him for dear life as the exhaustion overcame her. No, he had not imagined it this way. 

But it was happening this way, which was better than nothing. 

Her weight in his arms was near as light as a feather, even with the extra weight of the water that clung to her clothes. He wondered how much pain could possibly be held in such a tiny body such as herself. She had seen too much. Lived through too much. 

He would take her pain away. With God as his witness, he would do everything he could to take away her pain until his dying breath. She didn't deserve this, any of it. His jaw tightens when he thinks about the devastation she has endured. 

Christ, she's the strongest woman he's ever met. Even when she feels like she's broken.

Even in the state that she's in, he can barely believe that she is as close to him as she is. She's in his arms, her tired hands holding him tightly as he carried her up the stairs. She was cold, shivering and pale from the harshness of the weather. 

He knows how lost she feels. How badly she craves the warmth and peace of being home. She wants comfort and a place she can call her own. Today, that place would be within him. She would find in him all of the things she would find in a home. 

He would be her comfort, her beating heart, her renewal. 

The salt water dripped from her eyelashes with each step he took. It all felt like they were moving in slow motion. It had finally happened; she had cracked. The façade had dropped, the mask was gone, the walls crumbled, and she was left quivering like a child in the middle of a wasteland. Everything she had orchestrated to go along with the idea that she was okay, it was gone. He saw the truth. 

 _No._  

He found the truth. 

The truth had been buried under miles and miles of sand that he had to claw his way through. She had hidden it so deeply that she had even been able to convince herself that she wasn't in love with him. That she wasn't deeply, incredibly, unimaginably enamored by him. Because if it were true, she would've found herself in a horrible situation, much like the one she was in right now. 

She doesn't protest the care he's showing her. She doesn't kick and scream her way away from him. She's quiet. She's silent, and she's oh so exhausted. Her bones felt like icicles and her skin was numb to the touch. Although most her body felt paralyzed, she could still feel him against her. She could feel his pulse, reminding her that they were both alive.

They made it out alive. Time after time, they kept making it out alive on the other side. 

"We need to get you warm," he whispers into the silence, turning towards the hallway bathroom. She was too tired to think or stand or talk. She just wanted to fall asleep in the way his arms held her. He was still warmer than her, given that he hadn't been in the water nearly as long as she had been. She wants to sleep there forever. With her body on his.

He gingerly places her down onto the closed toilet lid, making sure that she doesn't fall over. As quick as he can, he's shifting the knobs in the shower, turning the heat up as far as it can go. 

"We're gonna get you warm, just hold on, okay?" he glances over towards her before grabbing some spare towels from the linen closet. She doesn't respond with much other than a tired and heartbroken expression. 

"Don't leave me," she pleads breathlessly, reaching a weak and shivering hand out for him. Her arms are too cold and tired 

He kneels down in front of her, taking her cheeks into his hands and cradling them as soft as possible "I'm not going anywhere," he's looking directly into her teary doe eyes, praying that even if for just a fleeting second, she will believe him. "I'm not leaving you."

She leans in towards him, her forehead resting against his before he takes her lips into another kiss. Even in her current state, she can't help but marvel at how incredible it feels to kiss him. Like she had only ever been kissing strangers this entire time. 

During her entire six months away from Hawkins, something felt off. Not a lot, but every little aspect of her life always felt slightly askew, off-kilter by only a few degrees. She had never been able to put her finger on it and figure out what it was. 

But with her lips finally pressed against his, she understands now why she had felt like something was always just a little bit off. It was him. The missing link, the light at the end of the tunnel. She pours what little energy she has left inside of her to feed into the kiss, debating on whether or not she should ever pull away from his lips.

She had come here to find a lot of things. To find the courage to keep going. To find peace and healing. To find safety. But she had certainly never expected that she would find love as well. 

When their lips depart from one another, her head leans into the crook of his neck. He lifts her up, his arms holstered under both of her legs while she holds on tighter to him. She's too tired to stand; too tired to walk two feet towards the shower.

Although they are both still clothed, the warmth of the shower water radiates into their skin. He hadn't realized just how cold she really was until the steaming water was practically boiling compared to her temperature. 

The fight she was putting up with herself was beginning to recede. She was still terrified beyond explanation, but she feels safe in his arms. She feels the pressure beginning to release off of her shoulders as the walls she put up begin to break down. No more lying to herself. No more playing pretend. She was here, in the moment with her body pressed against his while the shower rained down on them.

The smell of the ocean on her is swirling the drain and he can finally recognize her scent again. It's Joyce who is in his arms; the woman who had seen hell with him. The first girl he met in kindergarten, the teenager who shared stolen cigarettes with him, the woman who showed more strength in a day than more did in an entire lifetime. 

Her body is warming up and her skin feels less like ice and more like that of a human being again. He's truly amazed by her. Staring down at her, nose to nose, he feels more alive than he's ever felt. She's beautiful, she's so goddamn beautiful that it almost hurts. 

With her back up against the wall of the shower, he's got her cradled on his legs. He sees the glimmer of sadness rip through her eyes, just as he had seen it in the water. She's going to cry again, he can feel it. But it'll be okay because he's got her and he isn't letting go.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpers, her face contorting into the beginning stages of a sob. "I'm so sorry, Hopper. I'm so sorry," she repeats over and over.

He frees one of his hands to wipe away the tears that are melding with the water of the shower. "No, don't apologize." he shakes his head, praying that she'll open her eyes and see that he isn't upset. "Don't apologize, baby. You've got nothing to be sorry about,"

She's bringing out a side of him that he isn't familiar with. An endearing and comforting side that brings out his vulnerability. Layers peeling away, slowly showing the portions of him that aren't calloused and scarred. But beneath all of it, what she sees is incredibly beautiful. She sees him for what he is; just a human. Someone else who was living the same life as her, just in a different body.

For the first time in a very long time, she realizes that she isn't alone. There have been times where she knew that she wasn't alone, but she hadn't quite grasped the magnitude of it until now. He was here. He was the one who chased after her, time and time again. 

The storm in her head was slowing down now, her thoughts no longer running spinning like a tornado. She was in the moment, staring down his cobalt blue eyes and taking in everything they meant to her. The haziness was clearing slowly but surely, but she could once again see through her eyes without everything being a blur.

Only he could ever have that effect on her. An anxiolytic for every rising wave of panic in her stomach. The fear was still lying deep within her, but the trust he was offering to her was a start. He was showing himself to her, completely as he is. No intent to hide his flaws. He was being honest with her, and she would learn to trust again.

The color was returning to her lips as the heat seeped in. Five more minutes in the water and she would've been gone. He tried not to think of that, but it terrified him. She hadn't wanted to die, she just wanted the pain to stop. For the wire of sanity to stay taut and bound, rather than breaking free. 

The thought of not getting to her quickly enough would no doubt haunt him in his nightmares. He would spend sleepless nights, waking up with his heart pounding out of his chest from the simple thought of not saving her. 

Joyce Byers was not the damsel in distress type. She bared her cross on her back and defied the definition of a warrior. But even warriors break. Soldiers fall. Knights lose their battles. 

This time, she was allowing herself to be saved. 

Not as the damsel in distress, but as the fighter who was just too damn tired to fight anymore. 

Her arms clasped around his neck, leaning in to rest her head on his shoulder while the water continued to rain down on their cold bodies. Her cheek nuzzled against the stubble of his face, burying herself closer to him. She just wanted to be close to him. To feel the relief from the edge she had been sitting on for almost three years.

* * *

 

 

Joyce was sound asleep in his bed, donned in the softest pair of pajamas he had packed for himself. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes as he helped her strip down her sodden clothes. Her eyes barely stayed open, but she was persistent.

"Don't leave me, please. Please stay," she mumbled, already half asleep.

As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out cold. He had taken the opportunity to quickly lock up the house and make sure the kids were fed and ready to tuck in for the night. As he turned off the last kitchen light, he listened to the thrashing waves. The storm was letting up only slightly, still pushing rapid and furious winds through the air. 

He had woken up this morning with no idea how it would end. Funny how that works. Waking up to an entirely normal day, one you aren't sure you'll even remember. But then something catastrophic happens and suddenly every single detail of the day is etched into your memory forever.

This wasn't just the day that the dam broke, it was the day they began repairing it. They would rebuild this life on the solid ground of rock bottom. 

Even with the dramatic events he had faced today, he felt a sense of bliss. It was over. The worst part had to be over now. They had survived it, right? He would crawl into bed and sleep the night away with the love of his life tucked into his arms. He would wake up to her shining brown eyes and the world would keep on spinning. 

The doors were locked, the kids were asleep, and the lights were out. He felt the exhaustion beginning to fill him; motivating him to make one last trip up the stairs and fall asleep for the night. 

When he walked in, she was still sound asleep, clutching the plush turtle that Elle had gotten her against her chest. It stirred something within him, he just wasn't sure what it was. She looked so pure, so untouched from the harsh world when she slept. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he stared at her from the doorway. 

She was an inspiration to him, even when she didn't want to be. She hadn't asked for this life, yet no matter how badly she broke, she handled it with grace. Some people would disagree, but those people didn't matter. 

Pulling back the duvet and climbing into bed, he tried not to disturb her slumber. Still, she stirred when she felt the left side of the bed suddenly dip. 

"Hopper?" she asked, her voice hoarse and weak. 

"I'm right here," he whispered, running his fingers through her tangled hair. His voice instantly calmed her and she opened her eyes to look at him. God, he couldn't understand how someone could be so incredibly beautiful even after everything she survived. She was truly an enigma to him. 

"Hopper," she's said his name a million times before, but this time it sounds foreign to him. There's a small urgency in her voice. Not a protest or retaliation, but a simple beg. The furrow in his brows is almost unnoticeable, but he's looking at her differently now. 

She's shifting in bed and his hands instinctually begin to guide her closer to him. Within a slow movement, she's in his lap with her legs straddling his. Her hands slide down his jaw, gently bringing his mouth to hers. Her gaping bottom lip softly brushes against his before she closes the kiss. They're falling back into a new level of synchronicity, he can feel it. 

One of his hands reaches around her and grips at the fabric on the back of her sweater; pulling her in closer.

"Hopper," she repeats in a whisper once again as their lips pull apart. It isn't a beg this time, it's a confirmation. She's asking him a favor that she knows he won't decline. She's asking him to show her whatever it is that he's offering. 

He tries to hold back a soft and breathy groan against her lips, but he fails miserably. He needs this just as much as she does. He's needed this for as long as he can remember. To touch her, feel her, show her everything that she's been missing. 

With more urgency, he continues trying to pull her closer. Her body is humming against his, feeling the sudden need to pick up the pace. The kisses grow deeper, wanton and needy. He's trying to hold back but God, it feels impossible. He wants to taste every inch of her, to take her in and show her how deep his love can go. 

He frees one of his hands and snakes it up underneath her sweatshirt. He needs to run his hands down her ribcage and into her hips. He needs to feel the softness of her body against his. He needs all of her.

Her skin is no longer freezing cold, but a blazing hot inferno. She's panting into his mouth, trying to control her volume as his fingers find their way to her sensitized nipples. The short and breathy gasp leaves her lips as his fingers work against her chest. As soon as thumbs graze over the turgid skin, she's crying out softly in a needy moan. 

His breathing is picking up faster and the arousal is growing between his thighs. He needs to slow down, to enjoy what he thought may never happen. But he can't because her hips are involuntarily rotating against him and the need is growing by the second. 

As if they both thought of it at the same time, she helps him lift the sweatshirt off of her body. She's bare in front of him now, and his heart is pounding away furiously in his chest. As he leans forward to take one of her rosy red nipples in between his lips, her head falls back and her breath hitches in her chest. 

The pool of heat in her center is growing warmer and warmer and she isn't sure if she can take the slow pace any longer. She can feel his hardened length underneath of where she's settled in his lap, reminding her that what she feels is reciprocated between the two of them. 

His mouth moves away from her skin and she takes his head into her hands, crashing her lips back down to where they need to be. His hands are running up her bare back, tracing her spine as they rise. The feeling of his calloused fingers skimming across her skin isn't something she can describe. Somehow, he's so gentle yet his skin is so rough. 

This time, he's the one who pulls away to remove his own hoodie. Too many clothes to be shed, but it doesn't matter. He's trying to go slow, take his time, and relish the moment that he's lucky enough to be a part of. 

He leans in, nipping down the sensitive skin on her neck. She's mewling on top of him, clawing at him with a silent beg for more friction. The heat is growing and the burning need to feel him is overpowering her. Controlling her. Yet, she wouldn't change a damn thing about it. He's working her over gently, warming her and loving her without any words needing to be spoken. 

Silently, he lifts his hips to help her pull down the bottom half of his pajamas. Just enough where his length is exposed from the confines of his pants. She presses her forehead to his, taking his cock into her tiny hands and stroking it gently. 

"Jesus, fuck." he bites into the silent room, their heavy breathing accompanying the sounds of his groan. Her jaw is slightly slack, and his lips are back on hers while her hand works up and down his hardening arousal. She's incredible, he thinks. She's so goddamn incredible that he can't even begin to wonder how he ended up with such an amazing woman in his midst. 

Her thumb swipes over the tip, softly spreading his precome that begins to form. " _Ah_  fuck, Joyce." he breathes. "Not gonna last long if you keep that up," his words egg her on even more. A sudden burst of confidence flowing through her. She wants to feel him. She wants to have this effect on him every day for as long as she lives. To have him trembling beneath her. A broken woman who isn't quite as broken as one may think.

She lifts her own hips up this time, slipping out of and discarding the flannel bottoms he had dressed her in before she had fallen asleep. His fingers instantly reach towards her, sliding themselves gently through the slickness of her arousal. He sees her face contort into a gasp, a shaky moan releasing from her lungs as her knees begin to quiver.

Swiping the moisture towards his fingertips, he moves to gently rub circles around her sensitive bundle of nerves. Another cry escapes her lips even as hard as she's trying to hold it back. His free hand guides her neck down to kiss him once again, hoping it would work as a way to silence her. The kids were asleep downstairs, but it wasn't the same as having the entire house to themselves.

The more his fingers work at her clit, the more she begins to feel her extremities shake in response. Just as she's about to plead for something more, the digits slip inside of her, taking the breath right out of her. Her panting is growing louder while his fingers move agonizingly slow within her center. She needs more. She needs more or she will literally explode. 

She dares herself to look down, watch as his fingers slip in and out of her. Her body seems so tiny compared to him, even just his hands. As she's watching his movement, her teeth clamp down on her lower lip strong enough to draw blood. The atmosphere is filling with her whimpers, her begging. She doesn't even realize that she's crying for him until she hears her voice.

"Please. Pl-please, Hopper.  _Stop teasing me._ " 

Her words nearly cause him to snap and before he knows it, he's guiding her down to take in his length. Both of them release a moan in unison, gripping one another tighter as she sinks down and envelops him. She feels so full. So incredibly full and warm all around him. He's had his fair share of bedroom escapades, but nothing could or will ever even begin to compare to the feeling of her seated so perfectly around him.

"I love you," he whispers. "I love you so fucking much, Joyce."  his words disappear into the air while she pauses to adjust to his size. He watches as she tries to regulate her breathing, waiting for the slight tinge of pain to dissipate. Even with the intense look of concentration on her face, he can't truly grasp how incredible she looks. 

As her hips begin to softly rise and fall against him, his arms wrap around her and pull her chest against his. He needs to be closer, to feel her moving and writhing against him. No space between them, no hesitation or fear. Just the moment in its entirety.

Her mouth drops with a gasp and he takes the opportunity to kiss her again and again. As far as he's concerned, he may never be able to stop kissing her. She tastes like home, like salt water and cigarettes but still so feminine. Her cries were muffled by his lips, but the sound still sent shockwaves through his body.

She's incredible; and absolutely astonishing universal anomaly that he knows he deserves none of. He couldn't describe it even if he had a dictionary sitting in front of him; the way her skin feels sliding against him. What it feels like to have her wrapped around him, taking him in one breath at a time. 

Her hips begin moving quicker and the panting between them is growing heavier. He marvels at the sounds she makes, the soft and breathy  _oh's_  that escape her lips. Her thighs begin slightly shaking and she's riding him with more fervor with each passing moment. She's on the brink, he can feel it because he is too. 

One of his hands is gripping at her lower back while the other divides between them, brushing against her clit. The simple touch seems to electrify her, causing her moans to rise in volume faster than she can stop herself. 

"Harder," she breathes, squeezing her eyes shut as his hips rise to meet hers with more intensity. She feels herself getting closer and closer to her release, unable to slow down the speed that it's hitting her at. 

"Let go, Joyce," he whispers against her lips, his skilled fingers working at her center; hitting just the right spots. "You're so close. Let go for me," 

Something snaps within her and she's doubled over into him, trembling as her orgasm hits her like a freight train. The sounds she made when she came was enough to force him over the edge with her, temporarily blinding him with the sheer force of it.

Coming down from their dual highs, her body goes limp and leans into him. "I love you too," her voice is a whisper, barely audible from the way her head rested against his bare chest. 

Bliss.

* * *

 

 

They were right. He had no idea when he first heard the quote just how real it would be. How deeply it would resonate with him. They made it out alive, barely. Just barely. But on the other side, they were no longer the same two people who walked into the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggle with writing smut, but I tried my best.


	13. Chapter Thirteen - Source of Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce and Hopper both reflect on how things are changing, while the entire gang spends Thanksgiving dinner at Ruth's house.
> 
> Song of the Chapter: You Are the Reason by Calum Scott (such a great song. it was gonna be the song for the next chapter, but it fits this one.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck I hate this chapter so much. 
> 
> the next one is a little bit better, I promise

He wakes up to her wrapped up in his arms. This wasn't the first time within his visit that this had happened, but it was different. He didn't need to physically force himself away from her in fear of breaking her trust. He didn't need to keep his hands strategically placed above the waist. The boundaries and borders were gone, and he could finally appreciate her in all of her sleeping glory. 

She had woken up twice more in the night, allowing herself to be touched the way she had been denying herself of for as long as she had known him. Her hands on him, his hands on her, and a mingle of kisses and breathy moans in between them. 

She was sound asleep, her head resting against his bicep as her chest rose and fell rhythmically. His heart couldn't help but jump with excitement as he stared down at her. Joyce fucking Byers, thoroughly fucked and sated in his arms. He must've died out in that storm and went to heaven because there was no other valuable explanation. 

With a soft smile curving his lips, he reaches down and gently moves her hair out of her face with his index finger. She looked so small and delicate, but everything about her was opposite of that. She was one of the strongest women he had ever met, if not  _the_  strongest. 

She had survived because the storm inside of her roared louder than the storm around her.

Less than twelve hours ago, this wasn't his life. Now, he couldn't imagine life any differently. Making the drive out, he wasn't sure what his intentions were. To visit? To bring her home? To show her how much he loved her? He didn't know. He had thrown it up in the air and left it up to God to decide. 

For the longest time, staring at her felt almost sinful. She wasn't his to look at, to steal glances from; to even admire. It still feels like that in a way, except now he could stare at her for hours if he wanted to. He planned on it. It made him wonder how every person she ever passed on the street didn't stop and stare at her in awe of how incredible she truly is. 

He thinks about his daughter for a moment and his heart aches. Sara would've loved Joyce. She would've loved the waves and the beach and the way the palm trees swayed. She had always been good at paying attention to the small details of life that most people took for granted. She was a lot like Joyce, that one. Resilient as hell, an attitude that would probably get her in trouble, and uncontained ferocity. 

He allows himself the moment to think about what it would've been like for Joyce to know Sara. Joyce would've no doubt loved the girl just as much as she would've loved Joyce. The way she had taken in Elle as a surrogate daughter was enough to back his theory up. 

He was surprised to see that thinking about his daughter hurt a little less when Joyce was wrapped in his arms. Even in the state of a deep sleep, her presence was calming enough to numb a little bit of the pain he felt. 

He'd put a lot of work into healing himself from the loss of his daughter. Ellie was mostly to thank for that. Not as a replacement, but as someone who could show him that people who endured trauma could still be happy. She was living proof. He had expected Elle to go through a phase of intense anger for what she had survived as soon as she understood the magnitude of it. But once she was allowed back into the real world, she was the happiest kid he'd ever met. 

It amazed him how well they all fit together like puzzle pieces. Where one felt pain, another filled the hole with love. Elle helped Will cope, while he reciprocated that. Joyce made him feel less lonely, while he helped her feel safer. Elle healed him from the loss of his daughter, while he and Joyce healed her from the loss of her birth parents. He gave Will a real taste of what a father should be like, while Will showed him how to remain strong. 

Maybe that was what hurt the most when Joyce had left town. The puzzle pieces clattered to the floor and nothing fit the way it once did. He had always hated change, wanting things to go back to the way they used to; except he had no idea of which part of his life he'd go back to if he had a chance. In the end, he would always be missing something that he couldn't live without. 

But now he was starting to cope with the way things changed. If everything stayed the same, Joyce wouldn't be sound asleep in his arms. Elle wouldn't be his daughter and practical savior. Nothing would be right without the changes that had to be made. 

"Why are you staring at me?" Joyce mumbled, shifting so she was closer against his skin. Looking down, he could see the smug grin on her lips while her eyes stayed closed. 

"Because I can," he replies, running his hand through her hair to push it away from her face. He feels her softly giggle against him, her grin turning into a full-fledged smile almost instantly. She instantly broke out into a fit of laughter as he leaned down and peppered her cheeks with kisses.

 "Get over here, you." he laughs, wrapping her up tighter into his arms.

 

* * *

 

 

She's staring out from the patio once again. She had stood in this single spot so many times, experiencing a plethora of different emotions. She stood when she was sad, confused, hurt. But now, she doesn't know what she's feeling. All she knows is that her thoughts are quiet for the first time in as long as she can remember. 

There is no pang of heartbreak dwelling in her stomach. Her throat isn't closed with anxiety. She's simply standing there to admire the ocean, not to contemplate it. 

The storm has cleared and no longer looms over them with a thunderous wrath. The ocean has calmed, splashing gently upon the shore as if it's teasing the sand. The water shows no signs of change or dismay from the dramatic weather it had encountered. The sea's resilience is astounding to her. 

Subconsciously, she sees a lot of herself in the body of water. The storms come and go, the waves react, but they keep going. They always wake up and continue living. She could only aspire to be that way too. 

When she first arrived, she found a friend in the water. Except, she could always hear the ocean asking her a question. "What are you going to do about that hole in your heart?" Yet, she never answered back. Instead, the ocean had witnessed her response. She would break down and wait for him to heal the broken parts of herself that she wasn't able to heal on her own. By the looks of it, the waves seemed to agree with that answer. 

Maybe that was the only answer. 

She had tried so hard not to let the past define her. For all of her breaks and cracks to be only a small part of her, not her as an entirety. But those damaged pieces of herself ignited a fire within her. So much anger and hurt, it was only a matter of time before it rewrote her identity. 

But then there was the ocean, who showed no signs of damage after every storm that crossed its path. It was inspiring. The tide would continue to pull in and out for as long as it existed, no matter how bad any hurricane could ever be. How could that even be possible? How could something so treacherous attack the land and leave almost no damage to the ocean? How come it didn't have any scars or destruction?

For the most part, she had come here to heal. But she had been misguided. The source of her healing wouldn't be days spent by the waves no matter how badly she wished it would be. The source of her healing was downstairs while sitting on the floor playing Atari with her son and eating Eggos with his daughter. The source of her healing would be a man who didn't know how to heal himself, but instead healed others. 

Her pain had guided her to the water, but his pain had guided him to her. 

The universe works in crazy ways. 

Today was a different day. Different than any day she had spent here. Today was the beginning of something truly different. Not a change that she had been chasing, but one that had instead found her at its own volition. Today was a real difference that she hadn't forced. 

It wouldn't be much different than any other day. She would walk on the beach. She would make lunch for the kids. They would have Thanksgiving dinner at Ruth's house. But instead of going to bed alone, she would sleep with a warm body beside her. The nightmares would ease tonight and the sun would rise again tomorrow.

Today was a different day. 

 

* * *

 

 

"Joyce, what time are we supposed to go over to— Oh my  _God_." he cut himself off, walking into her bedroom to see her wearing a soft yellow sundress that flowed perfectly off of her body. His jaw nearly fell to the ground when he laid his eyes on her. 

"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies," she smirks as she fastens a pair of small silver hoops into her ears. "I take it that you like the dress?" 

Hopper could barely find the right words. Instead, he could only stand and drool over her in all of her glory. " _Like_  is an understatement." His eyes scan her up and down, mentally memorizing every detail of what lies in front of him. "Y'know," a devilish grin grows on his face. "It'd look even better on the floor."

"Hop!" she belts out a laugh. "Last time you gave me that cheesy pickup line was at our sophomore year Snow Ball. Time to brush up on your skills if you're gonna try to charm the pants off of me... or in this case the dress." she pats his shoulder with a faux sympathy before he moves in to wrap his arms around her waist. 

"I'd bet my pension that I could charm it off of you in five minutes flat," he whispered with his lips against her ear, feeling the shiver that runs through her body. She feels her temperament dissipating as his run down the thin cloth covering her skin. 

"We can put that to the test later, I promise." she giggles, pulling away from him. "But we're going to be late. Trust me, if we're late to Ruth's, she'll have no problem guessing and announcing why. Might as well save you the embarrassment." with a smile still on her face, she cups his cheeks and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. 

"I will hold you to that promise." he grins back at her before walking out into the hallway. "Kids! You ready to go yet?" A hard lesson he's learned while raising a teenage daughter is that she takes at least fifteen minutes more to get ready than most people do. 

"Almost!" Elle yells back. "I'm ready," Will repeats right behind her. 

"Hurry. I'm dying of starvation up here! I'm gonna lose twenty pounds just from waiting!" he retorts from over the staircase banister.

"Wouldn't do you any harm!" Elle remarks, quickly running away with laughter. Hopper's jaw drops in shock while Joyce nearly doubles over with laughter. 

"This kid, I swear to God." he gapes, snorting in disbelief. 

"And that is why I only have boys," she replies as she tries to catch her breath from the laughter. "Stop pouting, Hopper. You get what you deserve for teaching her the ways of your wit. No wonder Flo can't stand you half of the time. 

"When the hell did I sign up to be fucking roasted?" he chuckles. "Anything else you wanna tell me? Shave my beard? Dye my hair? Liposuction?" 

With a loving smack to his shoulder, she glares at him before cracking a smile. "No," she shakes her head, bringing him in for one more kiss. "You're perfect just the way you are. C'mon. We're gonna be late." 

The four of them walked over next door and were each welcomed by a warm hug from Ruth. The house smelled amazing with dinner just about ready to be served. From the corner of her eye, Joyce could already see Ruth smirking at her. 

"Need help with anything, Ruth?" she asks, knowing that the woman is looking for an excuse to talk to her privately. 

"Yes please! Since my lump of a husband would rather watch the football game than help his dear old little frail wife." she bites sarcastically, earning a shrug from Henry who stayed seated on the couch where he and Hopper discussed the game on the television. "Here, sweetheart. Just need some help preparing the plates." 

Joyce moved into the kitchen to help her, scooping mashed potatoes onto each plate. "So, hows the day treating you?" she asked the older woman awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact. 

"Well," Ruth starts, her southern accent still very thick in her voice. "I hardly got any sleep from all of that banging and pounding I heard last night."

Joyce's breath hitches in her throat and she's turning her head to speak before she can comprehend what Ruth is talking about. "You heard us?!" she asks breathlessly.

Ruth gives her a sly grin, biting her lip as she holds back a hearty laugh. "I was talking about the rain, dear. But, uh — suspicions confirmed." Joyce audibly gulps, turning her head back towards the project in front of her and training her eyes to stay put. Ruth's smile fades gently. "Figured well enough that something would happen between y'all after yesterday."

An embarrassed blush creeps up through Joyce's skin and she suddenly feels like there is no air left in the room for her to breathe. "Oh. You saw that."

"I did. But I won't lie to you, Joycie Mae. I think it needed to happen." Ruth pats Joyce's shoulder, giving her a sense of motherly love that she needs to feel. "You've been bottling up those damn emotions for so long that they were bound to explode. But, with that being said, you seem a little better now. Calm after the storm?"

"I think you're right." she sighs, dropping the serving spoon onto the counter and turning to look at the older woman.

"You know I love you dearly, darlin', but you were a ticking time bomb the moment you arrived. No offense, of course. You deserve a moment to release it all. I'm just glad Jimmy was here when it happened. Not sure if I could've intervened the way he did." The insinuating smirk grows back on her face and her glinting eyes narrow. 

"I'm sorry you had to see that." Joyce's shoulders shrink down and the embarrassment grows with each passing second.

"I'm not!" The older woman cuts in quickly, busting out a chuckle. "My cable cut out during the storm and I needed something to watch! I'm just kidding, I swear. No, I'm glad I saw it because now I know that I can trust that man to step in and save the day." she winks at Joyce, insinuation dripping from her voice.

"Pfft. You've trusted him from day one. You've practically been pushing him into my bed."

"You're right." Ruth huffs out, shaking her head. "Damn that southern hospitality. Trustin' everyone who walks in the door. But at least my trust wasn't misplaced, right? You finally took the leap if I what I saw out there was correct. He kissed you."

 _He did more than kiss me._ "Yeah, he did." she breathes, a soft smile tugging at her lips. He kissed her, he carried her to safety, he held her, he made love to her. But more importantly, he was saving her. She had spent her whole life convincing herself that no man would ever need to save her, but he was the exception. God, he was her only exception. He knew how to save her. 

She had saved him during a time that felt as if it were many lives ago. He was being swallowed up whole by the tunnel of vines. His lungs were constricted along with his limbs and she had been his only hope. All because he had been smart enough to drop half of a cigarette on the ground and lead her to him. She had wanted to kiss him so badly when his hands cupped her face, reassuring her that he was mostly unharmed. It had been such a close call; they've had too many of those lately. 

She had only seen the exterior of that night though. She wasn't there when he had muttered a final prayer under his breath, accepting the fact that he would be reunited with his daughter and he would be leaving the world. She hadn't seen the peace he felt behind his body struggling. He had been ready to die, just as she had been the day previous. But they continued. They say another day, inhaled another breath, survived another nightmare. 

"You should show him," Ruth's whisper interrupted her thoughts. When she looked back at the woman, she saw the raised eyebrows and serious expression she wore. 

"Show him what?" Joyce asked dumbly, turning her head and looking down at the counter. She knew what Ruth was talking about. She knew because she had relived it less than thirty-six hours previously. A place she hadn't intended showing Hopper during his stay. 

"I think it might make you feel a little better if you show him. Maybe he needs to see it more than you do. You haven't been back there since...  _well._ " the older woman's voice trailed off as she turned back to prepare the food in front of her. 

Joyce's throat felt as if it were closing up. She had thought about Ruth's suggestion long before the woman had even mentioned it. It wasn't something she had planned on doing, or even really considered it. It was a sacred place, a part of the island that saw a side of her that only a few others had seen. The unlucky ones who had been there to witness. Sometimes, she tried to convince herself that the place didn't exist. It wasn't constantly less than six miles away from her at all times. It wasn't even an option. 

"Tomorrow. I'll uh, I'll show him tomorrow." her teeth were grinding down furiously tight in her jaw, but it was probably the right call anyway.

"If you're letting out what you've been bottlin' up for so long, you might as well just get it over with, Joy. You want that new and improved life? Sadly, it takes a lot of work on the inside. Work that you've clearly been dedicated to putting in even if you don't think it's fair that you have to in the first place. Show him. It might make you feel better."

Joyce nods softly, continuing to stare down at the counter. Ruth was right; she's always right about everything. It'd get pretty annoying if she wasn't as helpful as she really was. 

"Alright, who's ready to eat?" 

Everybody gathered around the table, getting ready to dive into their plates and enjoy the evening. It warmed her heart to see the way Elle and Will interacted with Ruth and Henry. It came as a surprise to her since she knew they both were fairly shy. They were opening up, just as she had begun doing herself. 

Hopper smiled at her from across the table, warmth radiating from his eyes and sending shivers down her spine. His eyes were a radiating blue and just the glance alone made her feel warm inside. Something had changed. Something had changed so quickly.

Everything changed.

To her, it almost seemed as if nothing had happened. There had been no storm, no nearly drowning in the pain. It was happening so quickly, but she felt herself growing stronger with each passing moment. The missing puzzle pieces of herself were finding their way back to her. For the first time, she actually felt able to sit and actually enjoy the presence of the people whom she loved, rather than grow anxious about it. 

"Alright," Ruth speaks, breaking Joyce out of her reverie. "How about we all go around the table and list things that we're thankful for? I'll go first." she pauses, turning to smile at Joyce. "I'm thankful for the new memories I've made this year."

"I'm thankful for a year of safety," Will says next, grinning at his mother.

"I'm thankful for a year of freedom." Elle smiles toward Hopper who pats her shoulder with a smile of his own. 

"I'm thankful for..." Joyce's voice falters for a moment, feeling the threat of tears that nearly begin to well up in her eyes. "For the right people in my life." the tears don't spill, but instead the corner of her lips slowly rise, sharing a smile of her own. 

"I'm thankful for family," Hopper says without missing a beat. His eyes are locked with Joyce's and the world around them begins to fade away. It's just them, starring at each other from across the table. The world around them fades away as the seconds stretch on. 

"I'm thankful that the Cowboys aren't gettin' their asses kicked," Henry interjects, breaking the silence while earning laughs from most of them. Minus Ruth, who is sick and fucking tired of hearing about football. 

 

* * *

 

 

"Hey, Hop?" Joyce whispers softly, walking into her bedroom to see him sitting with his back to the headboard. His eyes lighten the moment she steps in, something she had pretended not to see for most of his time being with her. 

"What's up?" he asks, patting at the empty spot on the bed next to him. He's trying not to drool over the fact that she looks incredible, even in her bathrobe. But the quiet sound of her voice alerts him that this isn't the time to act flirtatious towards her.

Quietly, her feet pad against the carpet and she climbs into bed next to him. "There's someplace that I would like to show you tomorrow if that's okay. I uh — I've been avoiding it for quite some time, but I think that if you went with me, it might make it a little easier." 

There's a hint of sadness lingering in her eyes, something she isn't telling him. A small voice in the back of his head tells him not to question her, that she'll give him the details when she's ready. His arm slides along the top of the headboard, snaking around towards her back. 

"Okay, yeah." he nods, staring into her eyes with a million questions running through his mind. He wouldn't ask her any of them though. It wasn't the right time, and if it were, she would've made it known to him. But instead, she sits solemnly next to him with her hands folded in her lap. 

There were secrets rooted in the soil of this island. Memories and regrets that most would've thought washed away with the tide. Some places were sacred, others were hidden away by those who had their own experiences. Everybody had their own story about the things that had happened to them here, but the island remembered everything. Every footprint, every shed tear, every memory. And it would always be waiting for them when they decided to return.

Always.

"C'mere, you," he growls playfully, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her through her own laughter. As soon as he can reach over and turn the bedside lamp off, her lips are on his and the night comes to an end.

_Always._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such bad writer's block with this one, sorry guys :(


	14. Chapter Fourteen - Witness the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyce dives deeper into sharing her past with Hopper, while he's preoccupied with a secret he's been keeping from Joyce.
> 
> Song of the Chapter: Thousand Eyes by Of Monsters and Men (PLEASEEEE LISTEN. IT SETS THE MOOD SO WELL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIII OKAY SO UPDATE: RIPTIDE NOW HAS A TRAILER!! A MF TRAILER. AND THE ART I'VE INCLUDED IS SOMETHING I DREW THAT TAKES PLACE IN THE CHAPTER. I'm also excited about the fact that we are really entering the second part of the story!! The mystery part oooOOOOuuuuu. I mean, idk if it qualifies as mystery, more like the adventurous/suspenseful side that will build up the climactic part!!
> 
> Anywhoozles, the link to the trailer is down below, and so is the art I made eeeek.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!! Don't forget to comment down below, it's my favorite thing to wake up to!

**[WATCH THE RIPTIDE TRAILER HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UyptVp1IaU) **

 

* * *

 

 

Her hand is intertwined with his as they walk. She hasn't said much this morning, rather a little too quiet for his liking. Something is on her mind, and he assumes that it has something to do with where she's leading him.

Her smiles hadn't reached her eyes for most of the day; that worried him. Of course, she could still very well be raw from the past few days. Maybe he had come on too fast. Fuck, everything happened too fast. Or maybe it was just the last droplets of the storm coming down on top of them. 

She still hasn't told him where she's leading him, and he isn't even sure if he wants to know. It's a place that she's been hiding from, he knows that at least. Her steps aren't rushed, but almost as if she has had each footprint planned out in her mind. 

Her head bows slightly as she's walking and her locks of hair are blown behind her by the wind. He can feel her pulse under her skin, beating faster as they grow closer to her destination. 

The past is who we used to be, the present is who we currently are, and the future is who we intend to be. But with every footstep, she wonders if this person is who she had meant to grow into. If the past was what was really supposed to have happened to her. So many doubts and questions that remain unanswered.

Her past was a few feet in front of her; as if she were about to step into a time machine. Everything would look the same, smell the same. The sound of the waves would just the same as they once did twenty-two years ago. The last time she had stepped foot on this side of the island. The very last time her feet grazed the gravel ground. 

She told herself that she'd never return to this spot. To leave the past in the past. But there were still gaping wounds that needed to be sealed once and for all.  _'Don't look back, you're not going in that direction.'_  they always told her. But she was, she needed to go back for just a moment. To see the younger version of herself who walked away believing that the pain would heal when it hadn't. To figure out which broken pieces of herself from the past still existed. Still burned in pain. 

Her eyes involuntarily close as she's walking, and maybe it's because she doesn't want to see the past. Just a few more moments to pretend it never happened. To keep lying to herself about what she had once survived on this side of the beach. If she had moved here to heal, then she needed to put in the effort. She needed to face the past that seemed to keep repeating in her present. 

Just over the walkway over the sand dunes, she sees the shipwreck of the shore. The place that embodied a well-kept secret between herself and the ones she loved. The slice of her past that still remained standing strong in front of her.

_You can't start the next chapter of your life if you're still re-reading your last one._

She was not coming here to wallow in the past, she was coming here to put it to bed. To do the healing that she's needed to do for a very long time. She had other demons to face, but they would have to wait. Right now, this was the one in front of her.

The past.

If Hopper wanted her for who she is, he will receive all of her. Everything that ever made her. Every decision she's made, good or bad. Every memory, every heartbreak, every little thing that made Joyce Byers into Joyce Byers. He wanted it? He's got it. All he has to do is face it with her. All of it. 

For the longest time, she had thought that she had seen everything because the world hadn't seen her. That wasn't true. She hadn't seen it all yet, and that terrified her. The world had watched her as if she were under a microscope. There was more waiting for her, lurking in the dark. But deep down, she knew she couldn't conquer that unless she conquered this first. The details, the pain, the fear. Her past was waiting to be resolved, weighing her down like shackles on her ankles. 

Carefully, they help each other down the steps to the beach access. It's still there, she can see it sticking out of the sand. The memoriam of her trauma. One of the first acts of cruelty that life had pushed onto her. It's standing like a beacon, just as proud and tall as it had when she had last seen it.

Twenty-two years ago. 

The  _Mary Ann_  it was called. A sunken boat; washed up and buried into the deep layers of the ground. The sand around it had eroded since she last saw it, leaving more of it exposed. In a few years, it may be completely visible. But as of now, the rusty topmasts still poked through the Earth's ground. It was beautiful and tragic all at the same time. That damn boat had witnessed the vision of grief. True and breathless bereavement that she had allowed herself to become overwhelmed with twenty-two years ago. Here it still stood, keeping her actions a secret from anyone who walked past it.

It had seen so much. It stood there, mocking her, reminding her of that awful day where her life collapsed for the first time. 

She wants to run, but she wants to heal even more. Her hand tightens within Hopper's, and she realizes that running is not an option. He had shown her his own side of vulnerability, it was time she did the same thing. To be completely and totally honest with him.

She had so many reasons for leaving Hawkins behind, but this was one she had kept primarily to herself. 

As she's guiding him over towards the sunken boat, her voice feels almost weak from her nerves trembling. She was facing the past, reminding herself that it was over with and that she had survived that awful day. The boat had witnessed it, the water had witnessed it, now it was time for him.

"The  _Mary Ann_. A shrimp trawler that washed up on shore slowly over time. Years even." she whispers, fearful that her voice may quiver if she tries too hard. She can see his eyes, blown wide in amazement at the vessel that sat in front of him; unmoving. 

"It's beautiful," he replies, still rather confused as to why she was showing it to him for any reason other than it being a tourist attraction.

"I was eighteen when my dad died." She starts, watching from the corner of her eye as his face shifts and his expression turns serious. "We were spending the summer here as we did every year. I remember when I came back in the fall and you told me that I seemed different. I brushed it off, mentioned what had happened and pretended to move on."

He's trying to find the right words, even if there aren't any. "I remember."

"Yeah, well..." she pauses, grazing her hand softly against the rusted metal pipes. "He always said to me how he wanted the island to be his final resting place. Even when he was healthy, he'd look up at the sky or down at the beach and when he'd be overcome with joy and appreciation for it, he'd mention how he wanted to rest here someday."

"Joyce," he warns, watching her as her face goes completely numb. It's like he can feel it, he can feel the blood rising up to her face but every nerve underneath her skin is too scared to acknowledge it. 

"And uh, his death came so out of the blue. Heart attack. I mean, everybody who's lost someone suddenly will always say how it was so unexpected... but this was different. I don't know why or how, but it was different." Suddenly, she stops to look up at him. He knows what that emotion feels like, he's lived it all before."I didn't want my dad's legacy to be brushed off as an unfortunate tragedy that was unexpected. That wasn't fair"

"Joyce, you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No, no. I want to. I need to." she paused, trying to regain her bearings. "His uh... his funeral service was here. Right here. He loved this stupid shipwreck so much and I don't even know why. But my mother was so fucking blitzed on vodka and Ativan through the entire ordeal that I was the one who had to plan his funeral. Just barely eighteen years old. Right here, right where we're standing. All I could do was honor his wishes no matter how badly it hurt."

She's shaking her head, almost as if she's trying to will away the panic that threatens to rise in her chest. She's opening up. Not by force, but by choice. A shitty, painful choice that she knows she needs to make. 

"I thought I was holding it together so well. I mean, I had no other choice. I had to be the strong one. But uh, the day came for the service and I watched his ashes float away in the wind and into the water and I just lost it."

She sees as he flinches, as if he's reliving his own side of the trauma that he had survived. He knows that feeling all too well. The gravestones that you never thought you'd live to see with the names of the people you loved the most scrawled on the top.

"I broke down, Hop. Screaming and kicking and crying so hysterically that they almost committed me. My dad was my world. Overnight, everything changed. I was eighteen, pregnant with Jonathan, forcibly engaged by my mother to a man I didn't even want to be married to because I was pregnant. Grieving my father. And everything just went up in smoke. If something could go wrong, it went wrong."

"Joyce... I'm so sorry." his eyes are leaking tears, proving to her that he means exactly what he's saying. He'd know because this had once been his life. A different time and a different place, but he had experienced it all.  

His words fall deaf to her ears as she continues to speak. To open up and admit the haunting parts of her past.

"I ran for the water. God, I ran so fucking fast with no other intention other than to run into the middle of the ocean. Henry and Ruth, they went after me. Dressed head to toe in black funeral clothing while grieving one of their closest friends, they both just dodged after me and straight into the water with no warning or request. They were practically all I had left."

Things are beginning to make sense to him now. Things about her and her past that he had never even thought about. Puzzle pieces falling into the right places, connecting the dots that he hadn't been able to figure out. 

"I never returned after that summer. All I could think about was how I was on my knees in the middle of the waves having a total meltdown. Everything just collapsed, how could I possibly return here? But if there is one thing I remember from that day, it was the catharsis." Her voice sounds different to him now, a shift of her tune. She wasn't explaining the past, she was explaining herself. "Everything I was feeling just broke out of me and no matter how broken I felt, I felt free. Shackled in grief and pain, yet the ocean was what made me feel free. So after everything with Will, all I wanted was to feel that catharsis again. It was like a drug. I needed it."

He sighed heavily, staring back at her wide doe eyes. "I know, sweetheart."

"I knew coming out here that the odds were it would happen again. I would lose control, I would let go and I would throw myself at the waves and wish that they would just end me. I thought that this time, there wasn't going to be anybody who saved me.  I hated myself for knowing it would happen because I have two beautiful children who need me and yet all I wanted to do was crawl into the current and just let it rip me from limb to limb." the tears are forming in her eyes, stinging as they threaten to fall. To hit rock bottom so hard that even her kids wouldn't have been able to keep her going, it ached so incredibly bad.

"Joyce. You don't need to justify yourself to me."

"Being here didn't just make me feel closer to my dad, one of the only men who most likely would've been able to help me cope with almost losing Will, aside from you and Jonathan. But being here was the only way that I knew I would be able to let go. Whether that be letting go of the past, or just letting go of my life entirely. Nearly losing Will, it broke me all over again. I had built myself back up and it all came crashing down again." Her eyes carry the look of both heartbreak and hopefulness, praying that he understands her at least a little bit. "The entire time he was missing and I was just lying on the floor, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to run into the waves. Just as I did right here so many years ago. Not only that, but I couldn't stomach the thought of losing him again, which almost happened. A third time, Hop? I couldn't even begin to live with the thought of what would happen if I stayed in Hawkins. I can't keep losing people."

Her face finally breaks, her lower lip quivering with a hundred different mixed emotions. 

Hopper stares at her with tears in his eyes and he's beginning to break too.

"I came here to feel closer to what I had lost. I came here to die, Jim," she admits softly, stifling a sniffle while her head bobs back and forth softly. "But you... you and that knight's armor you wear, you didn't let that happen. You chased after me and um... I'm just—  _sorry._ " her voice cracks and it hits him like a bullet.

"C'mere," he whispers, opening his arms as he walks towards her. 

Her body hits him with a thump as his arms tightly embrace her. He's known her for so many years; seen so much of her, yet there was still so much he didn't know. Memories and pain that she lived with every moment of the day. Little corners of the Earth that had witnessed her at her highs and lows. 

 

* * *

 

 

The folder had been packed away in his suitcase for the entire trip. Stealthily placed at the bottom, under a layer of his clothing. The manila folder that makes his blood boil in his veins, lighting a fire of anger in his gut.

His fingertips graze over the 'classified' ink mark on the cover, questioning himself of the idea of opening it. Joyce had shown him a side of herself today, allowing him to view a source of her vulnerability. But he still had skeletons in his closet that she wasn't aware of. He won't share this with her. He won't warn her or worry her more than she already is. He won't show her his findings and the hunt he was going on. His best-kept secret tucked neatly at the bottom of the bag.

He knows that if he moves his hand half of an inch closer, he could flip the folder open with his thumb. He would nosedive into a cycle of looking for a pattern, an answer that must be hidden within the page somewhere. It has to be; it must be somewhere between the lines, Paper printed with photos and red marker slashing and circling across each of them. Names, faces, fingerprints, street addresses. Color-coded X's drawn on a map, a mystery that is waiting to be cracked. The whole damn nine.

Once upon a time, he had been good at this. The hunt, the investigation. All of the leg work of finding what he was looking for. He was a renown detective in New York City, but maybe he couldn't figure this one out because it was too close to home. Literally and figuratively. It was too close to Elle, too close to the Byers and Hawkins. His attachments had scrambled the skills he once had.

Joyce had several reasons behind her decisions to leave, he had figured that much. She was looking for peace and safety and even familiarity. But she had no real clue as to why he was here as well. Not just to visit her, not just a small vacation. He was here for much more than that.

His jaw clenches when he thinks of the betrayal on her face if she found out the truth. She would begin to question every decision that he's made since he decided to visit. She would replay every word he had said, trying to figure out the truth from the deception. What was a lie and what was the truth? He had ulterior motives alright, just not the ones she was expecting. He wasn't here to bring her home, he wasn't here to convince her to go back to her old life. But for every single reason why he was here, it was rooted in love; even if it wasn't the entire truth.

If she were to find out the truth, the consequences for his actions wouldn't hurt him as much as one might think. What he was doing was for her sake, for the kid's sakes. If she saw this as a lie and left him, he would lie in the bed he made knowing it had been for the greater good. He loved her. He'd always loved her. But now he was the one who would be making sacrifices for the sake of safety. This time, he would bear the burden on his back instead of her.

He looks dead behind the eyes as he stares at the file, lividity climbing up through his skin like a wildfire. Joyce had shown him strength. She was done just surviving life, now she was going to live it. He was finding strength now too, except he wasn't moving on. He was going to kill the past, not just walk away from it. He will do what it takes not to survive, but to protect the ones he loves.

His fingers flip open the cover page, revealing the neatly folded map that sat at the top of the file's contents. Sticky tabs and markers cover it, leading a pathway of direction. This was the basic map he had put together for the sake of traveling. 

 

**OWENSVILLE, INDIANA 47665**

**FIRST SPOTTED: CLARK STREET**

**MAY 15TH**

**11:55 AM**

 

Most people had no clue that in the old interrogation room attached to his office held a much larger scaled map, more intrigued detailing. Every clue, right down to the address of the street. The numbers on the mailboxes. The names of every person who could possibly have any details he missed. 

 

**RICHMOND HEIGHTS, MISSOURI 63117**

**SPOTTED SECOND: WEST BRUNO AVENUE**

**JUNE 12TH**

**4:03 PM**

 

Every conspiracy. Every wrong-doing. Every sighting. Everything. The room had become a shrine, home to where he had spent his late nights where his mind wouldn't quiet down. He would walk in, lock the door behind him, and spend endless hours trying to get into the head of someone who possessed more evil on this planet than anybody else. 

 

**HUNTSVILLE, ARKANSAS 72740**

**SPOTTED THIRD: GARRETT AVENUE**

**JULY 21ST**

**2:43 PM**

 

The eyes of a hundred  _'Wanted'_  photos pinned to the wall stared him down, mocking the cement wall in his mind that separated the answer from himself.  Day in, day out. The eyes of sinful and immoral acts, glaring down at him from the four walls. 

 

**SEMINOLE, OKLAHOMA 74868**

**SPOTTED FOURTH: NORTH HIGHLAND STREET**

**AUGUST 2ND**

**9:05 PM**

 

_'Call this number if you or someone you know has seen this man. Do not approach. The suspect may be armed and dangerous. If you have any information, please contact our anonymous tip line.'_

 

**BRINKLEY, ARKANSAS 72071**

**SPOTTED FIFTH: EAST HOLLY STREET**

**AUGUST 17TH**

**2:45 PM**

 

The trail wasn't making any sense. Strands of yarn ran through the pins on the map, the lines leading in the most bizarre directions. In fact, it seemed as if there were no direction at all. 

 

**JACKSON, TENNESSEE 38301**

**SPOTTED SIXTH: SWEETBAY DRIVE**

**SEPTEMBER 1ST**

**9:30 AM**

 

Just wandering. Endless wandering.

 

**STARKVILLE, MISSISSIPPI 39759**

**SPOTTED SEVENTH: SOUTH MONTGOMERY STREET**

**SEPTEMBER 17TH**

**8:05 PM**

 

It made no sense. Just going back and forth, zig-zagging through state after state with no pattern. No predictability. No place important or valuable. Big cities and backroads towns.

 

**DECATUR, ALABAMA 35601**

**SPOTTED EIGHTH: PROSPECT DRIVE SOUTHEAST**

**OCTOBER 9TH**

**3:27 PM**

 

It made no sense to them —  _until it did._

 

**ANNISTON, ALABAMA 36207**

**SPOTTED NINTH: LAPSLEY AVENUE**

**OCTOBER 15TH**

**7:09 PM**

 

He was throwing them off of his trail. He'd move slowly, then too quickly. He was planning. He was hunting. Getting closer and closer. 

It was messy, yet so strategic.

 

**ALEXANDER CITY, ALABAMA 35010**

**SPOTTED TENTH: CHEROKEE ROAD**

**OCTOBER 27TH**

**3:31 PM**

 

And he saw where the map was leading them. 

Hopper was looking for reasoning; logic. Anything that could be used to figure this mystery out. But that was the problem with this case. There was no logic to be used because this didn't contain a shred of valid reasoning. It was just pure evil. Evil had no logic. So the nights would carry on, the clock ticking and the answers disintegrating in front of him. 

The last blue tab stuck to the map haunted him. 

 

**AUBURN, ALABAMA 36830**

**LAST SEEN: MILLER AVENUE**

**NOVEMBER 2ND**

**3:32 PM**

 

297 miles away from where his feet were planted on the ground at this very moment. 

But then the calls stopped. No more reports, no more sightings. Vanishing. The FBI had given Hopper no updates, saying that there was nothing they could do. He had nearly crunched the phone in his fist when the excuses on the other line got to be too much. He had spent that entire day staring at the map, looking back and forth between the 297 miles between his target and Joyce. He hadn't really needed to ponder on his decision, it was made the moment his stomach felt as if it were knotted together. 

_"Ellie J. Why don't we go visit Joyce for Thanksgiving? How does that sound?"_

Hopper saw where the trail was leading him and if the FBI wasn't going to do anything about it, he would. Less than two weeks later, the car was packed, the gas tank had been filled, and his gun was loaded. 

He was done with the fear. 

He was done with the waiting.

He was done with the games.

Jim Hopper isn't afraid of the dark, he's more afraid of what's behind it. And as it seeps closer and closer to him again, he refuses to go into this unprepared just as he had done time and time again. The black hole was gravitating near him once more and he wasn't going to submit to it. He wasn't going to lose another goddamn thing that meant anything to him. 

Evil was lurking in the dark, and he was going to put a bullet into the shadows. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeeEEEEKKKK!!! I love suspense. the next chapter is full of it.


	15. Chapter Fifteen - There Goes the Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Joyce grows anxious over the idea of Hopper returning home, he makes a trip out to visit the FBI agent he's been working the case with. 
> 
> Song of the chapter: Open Your Eyes by Snow Patrol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading this now because I can't seem to finish chapter sixteen and I don't want to keep you guys waiting. Anyway, without further ado.

Her arms are wrapped around the back of his neck as he's sliding in and out of her. The room is filled to the brim with the sound of breathy moans and heavy panting. Her legs practically cling to his waist, begging for more friction. The pressure builds deliciously inside of her, egging her on to meet his thrusts with more force. 

The sun was rising faster and their private time was limited; still, she tried to allow herself to go slower. It was much easier said than done because the tension in her core was tightening and she could feel him holding himself back. As her jaw drops with pleasure, he leans down through his rushed movements to envelop her in a kiss. 

It takes every ounce of willpower to keep her volume low enough where they don't wake up the kids, but the feeling of him inside of her is all too perfect. Her nails rake down his back, leaving red trails as they claw away at his skin. "Harder.  _God,_ Hopper. Harder." she cries out. 

He adores watching her face as she reaches her pique. Most women seem so stereo when they come, all of it feeling so fake and rehearsed. Not Joyce. She let her body have the reactions it wanted to, forcing nothing while also holding back nothing. So authentically herself that it drove him to his own climax just watching Joyce being Joyce. 

His body thumps against the bed next to her, his breathing heavy as he tries to realign himself and correct the way the earth had just shattered behind his eyelids as he came. She reaches her hand over him, cupping his cheek and bringing him in for another of a million kisses they share. 

But something is bothering her, he can sense it. She's a little quieter, she has been for the past few days. It's a fine line to walk with her, and he isn't sure if he should walk it at all. Asking her if something was wrong may spook her, but not asking her will allow it to build inside of her. 

Right before he decides to ask her what's bothering her, she begins to speak.

"How much — uh," she gulped, trying to swallow away the rock that seemed to form in her throat. The question burns against her vocal cords, aching so painfully that she doesn't even want to say it. "How much longer can you stay here for?" 

As the question hit his ears, all of the blood drained out of his face. He could only stare down at her, his jaw hanging slightly while he tried to regain his equilibrium. There was no answer he had prepared for that question. Not a single thought paid to the fact that he would eventually leave. 

"As long as I can," he whispers, shifting his eyes away from her as his hand came to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. There is no real confirmation in his answer, but she hopes that it holds the same integrity as a promise. Although, that isn't very hopeful or realistic. 

They're living a lie. They're living it together, pretending with all of their might that it's the truth. 

It's been weighing down in the back of her mind for a while now. Quiet, yet so persistent. A small voice reminding her that the life she is living is not her reality. The idea of this world she has created dissolving away will rip the ground out from underneath of her feet. She can't just wish for this life to be permanent and receive it. Willing things into existence is not her strong suit.

The air in her lungs feels like cement, slowly solidifying and suffocating her. 

To lose everything the moment she finally got it; it would be a tragedy. Yet somehow, she had let the reality of this situation to be overlooked, to go unthought of. She jumped in head first into this ordeal, suddenly forgetting that everything would be temporary. This wasn't his life, it was hers. His life was still miles away from her, but they just happened to intertwine with each other. 

Not a single time when she hugged him or kissed him or slept with him had she allowed herself to remember that he did not live here. It seemed as if neither of them had come to terms with that fact, their actions still basing on the denial-filled notion that this was a reality for both of them. But it wasn't. This wasn't his home. None of it was — it was hers. Two different people, two different lives, yet one shared experience of trauma that bound them together.  

The further she thought back, the more she realized that the voice of reason had warned her of this. She had just chosen to ignore it. It screamed at her with every touch that he would not be here forever. He would return to his version of the real world. The same one she had chosen not to face again. Every moment his skin brushed against hers and she found herself growing closer to him, the voice kept reminding her. But she had muted it and now she was left to pay for the consequences. 

"How are we gonna do this, Hop?" she asks softly, the same look of sadness plaguing her eyes that he had seen a million times before. The gentle drop in her brows, the way her lips open and close before pursing entirely as she inhales. The sound of concern in her admittance breaks him apart little by little. 

"We're gonna figure this out." his voice sounds gruff, yet totally unconvinced of his own words. The feeling of bile rising in his chest is acidic, burning more than he can handle. He doesn't have a plan or even a shred of an idea as to how they'll manage this, but he refuses to lose it. He's finally got her after all this time, this won't crash and burn. Not if he can help it. 

"Hopper." she protests, her eyes glazing over with a little more seriousness. "We can't just pretend that this is going to work itself out. You should know this by now."

"What can I do, Joyce?" his words come out sounding angrier than he intended. "At this moment, there isn't anything I can do to change the circumstances. But we'll figure it out, you just have to trust me," 

He's asking a lot of her and he knows it. Joyce doesn't trust easily, if at all. Even more so, he knows that he's keeping a secret from her and he shouldn't ask her to trust him since he's playing it unfairly. Especially when it's a secret that he knew could make or break everything he had built with her over the past few weeks. 

"I didn't say I didn't trust you," she mutters under her breath, the words barely making the distance to his ears. 

"Joyce we—" he pauses, shaking his head in frustration. "We're gonna make this work, okay? I promise we're gonna find a way to make this work. I just — I just need some time to figure out how." 

His voice comes out in a plea, begging her to please just give him a chance at this. Her eyes lose focus as they usually do when she's going into a state of silence. "I'm gonna go start breakfast for the kids." her voice is so quiet that he can hear the burden she's bearing just from her tone. His heart clenches as she pulls her bathrobe over her frame and walks out of the room with her head hung. 

 

* * *

 

 

Once again, he found himself staring down at the file he had kept hidden. He needed to be in his office right now, finding a way to take his mind off of the predicament with Joyce. He would stare at the photo covered walls, run every little detail through his mind for the millionth time. But he couldn't do that. He was 850 miles away from his office, so the makeshift folder with the basic details would have to do for now. 

He glared at the list of locations, the spottings; trying to find any sort of pattern in the scattered list. The dates, the times, the street addresses, nothing. There was no pattern, there was no reasoning. All Hopper could deduce it down to was that the trail was growing closer to Joyce before it abruptly stopped. 

_Owensville, Richmond Heights, Huntsville, Seminole, Brinkley, Jackson, Starkville, Decatur, Anniston, Alexander City, Auburn._

It was leading in circles, nothing linear about it. Just an uneven pathway straight to the Byers' new residence. It didn't even make sense when it came to convenience. It wasn't a fast route or even an easy straight shot to Georgia. It was back and forth, returning to some states and skipping others. Some sightings were populated villages, others were city streets. He was everywhere and nowhere. 

The sadistic and maniacal eyes of the  _'Wanted by the FBI'_ poster stared back at him, teasing him.  _'Haha, you can't find me. You're not inside of my head, but I'm inside of yours.'_   Taunting him. He could practically hear the son of a bitch's voice in his head; reverberating in his eardrums. The more Hopper heard it, the more he wanted to choke the life out of the bastard. 

He's dreamt nearly every night for two years about how he's going to find him. Ruin him. Absolutely destroy him with nothing but his bare hands. His jaw clenches at the thought, the sharp pain of his tightening teeth running through his skull. 

He hates himself for how badly he wants to watch the life drain out of his target's eyes. It's been a long time since he's killed, lifetimes away on the soil of Vietnam. After that, day after day he had stared down the priest's eyes through the scalloped confessional walls. He'd been absolved of his sin, reciting more Hail Mary's than he could ever count. But now? Now he wouldn't ask forgiveness from God. He would think this through, plan each detail, fixating on just exactly how it will go down. 

And he will not feel a single drop of regret when he pulls the trigger. 

In fact, he will feel only relief. Entirely cathartic relief as he exhales the breath he's been holding for nearly three years.

Joyce was angry at him for avoiding their conversation and she was the only recipient of his guilt. He couldn't tell her, he just couldn't. It would break everything she was fighting so hard to rebuild. Every shred of herself that had crumbled under the fear and the pressure. He was protecting her. 

Or at least he thought he was.

It was difficult walking the tightrope of doing what he needed to do to keep her safe while also avoiding emotionally hurting her in the long run. She deserved the truth, but she also deserved the peace of mind she had fought so hard for. When it came down to it, there was only a question to be asked. Which was the lesser of two evils?

He had a million reasons to come visit her, and for a while, he wasn't sure which one was the real reason. Maybe they all were. 

He had come to do whatever it was that he could. Whether that be to visit her, love her, take her home, or protect her; that wasn't up to him. It was up to the universe which had handed him four options on a platter and made him pick which one was the best. But it was an impossible decision because it seemed as if he could only choose one. 

In his heart of hearts, he knew the answer. No matter what he lost in the process, any opportunity or sake of heart, he would choose to protect her. He would protect her until his dying breath. If he couldn't love her, he would save her.

His eyes closed at their own volition, no longer able to handle staring at the 'wanted' poster for another second. It made him nauseous as most details of this situation did. For the first time, he truly began to understand why Joyce had crumbled under the stress. A thousand possibilities, a thousand choices, and a thousand sacrifices to make. How had she lasted so long without breaking before?

The thought of her feeling for three years what he was feeling for five minutes caused a shift in his equilibrium. She was incredibly strong. So small, yet made entirely of steel; or at least that's what she pretended to be. At the end of the day, she was still human. They all were. Trauma hit them like bullets, and they were not made of kevlar. Human beings who shattered under pressure; screamed into the wind and walked out into the waves. 

Telling her the truth would only cause more pain... Right?

Hurting her was not a part of his duty. The duty of care was meant for protection, and that was what he was supposed to do. Protect her at all costs. 

In one swift movement, he stuffed the file under his jacket and closed the door behind him. Joyce was downstairs, quietly stirring pancake batter in the silent kitchen. The kids were still asleep, which was surprising given that it was already ten in the morning. 

If she had heard his footsteps coming down the stairs, she didn't acknowledge them. "Hey," he muttered under his breath, earning a barely responsive 'hey' back. 

"So uh..." he itched the back of his neck, trying to think of an excuse. "I'm gonna run a quick errand if that's okay? Elle saw this shirt she wants in an Old-Navy catalog and I guess there's a store on the mainland. Is it okay if I step out for a bit?"

"Sure," Joyce responded, not looking away from the task at hand. She didn't sound mad, which confused him even more. She didn't sound emotionless either. He knew the sound of her voice and recognized it as her  _'I'm pretending as hard as I can that I'm not upset'_  voice.

"We'll talk when I get back, okay?" he asked, hoping he'd at least get some eye contact this time.

"Nothing to talk about," she responded simply.

 

* * *

 

 

_Owensville, Richmond Heights, Huntsville, Seminole, Brinkley, Jackson, Starkville, Decatur, Anniston, Alexander City, Auburn._

He repeated the names over and over in his head while he white-knuckled the steering wheel all the way to Brunswick. He saw the labeled map every time he blinked, as if it were seared into the back of his eyelids. There was no pattern, and that was the point. 

His brows furrowed as his bit his lower lip in contemplation. No pattern, but not hidden. He wanted to be seen, he wasn't trying to hide his actions. Why? Why hadn't he left the goddamn country when he had a chance? Why was he striding across the states, back and forth? 

Peaking through the top of his aviators, Hopper saw the upcoming sign for his destination. He had meant to get here earlier in his visit, but being around Joyce had distracted him. 

 **'Brunswick, Georgia — Federal Bureau of Investigation'**  

Swinging a left, he drove his blazer into the first empty space of the parking lot. His heart was thrumming a little too quickly in his chest. He had ignored this long enough. One of the very reasons why had come to visit Joyce in the first place, he needed to make an important stop.

The slight chill in the air shivered down his spine, and the guilt he felt was suddenly paralyzing. Lying. Lying to Joyce. Lying to everybody. He hated lying. After Elle had read him the riot act for lying to her, the guilt grew and grew within him. 

He had lied about a lot. Maybe not in words, but more like avoiding the truth. Coming clean about things like talking to Brunswick FBI for at least three months before visiting Joyce. About how he was sent his security clearance card in the mail because his visit out here was technically work-related. How there had been agents assigned to keep Joyce's family protected, yet staying hidden away from her view. 

He couldn't risk her knowing. God only knows she would've cracked quicker from the fear. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She was hiding, but she had been found. 

Except, he hadn't weighed the dangers of her knowing versus the dangers of her not knowing. He could only hope that he was doing the right thing. 

"I'm here to see Special Agent Rhodes, please. Name's Jim Hopper," 

The woman behind the reception desk stared him down in silence for a moment. He had seen a lot of that being down south, mainly because he didn't look or sound even the slightest bit southern. He let out a deep exhale, trying to calm the burning nerves in his stomach.

"Chief Hopper?" a familiar voice called from behind him. He had heard the voice several times on the phone, the agent assigned to keep an eye on the Byers family. "Agent Frank Rhodes. Nice to finally meet you in person." the man stuck his hand out, which Hopper begrudgingly shook. 

"Pleasure is all mine," he muttered unenthusiastically. 

"Let's talk in my office." the agent nodded his head towards the elevators as Hopper studied the man. He was average, blue eyes and brown hair. Didn't quite look as if they sent him the rookie, he looked to be in his mid-thirties.

The ride up to the ninth floor was awkwardly silent, at least for Hopper it was. No matter how egotistical it may sound, he was used to being the boss of the building he worked out of. Here, he was nothing but a cop who swapped out his badge for a temporary federal pass. He was a nobody here. 

"I hate to give you some bad news, Chief." the man started as he moved to sit behind his desk, ushering Hopper to the guest seat. "Your target is off the radar. Nothing in the past two weeks, no movements or reports. He's AWOL."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me." Hopper scuffs, throwing his head backward in annoyance. "Look. You can't pull the plug on keeping the Byers under your wing. You've already denied putting them into WITSEC, don't leave them hanging now that the jackass is playing games with us." 

"We're keeping a couple of suits on the Byers family just in case. The JIA let us put some plainclothes officers into the tolls booths that run into the island, but the top brass is getting impatient and we're running up quite the tab for the protection gig we're giving them now." The agent sighed, looking down at his desk to get away from Hopper's caustic glare. "We're lowering the current threat level over the Byers family. I'm sorry Chief, but it's been over two weeks and they no longer qualify as a Charlie level. My Assistant Director wants them down at a Bravo level at most — and that was after I went out of my way to keep him from knocking them down to an Alpha altogether." 

"Look," Hopper grits through his teeth, leaning forward in his chair. "This guy? The man you've practically listed as DEFCON 5, he knows his tricks. He knows exactly what he's doing, he wants you to think he's going ghost on us because he knows that reduced threat will lower your defenses. He's done this before, alright? But you can't look me in the eye and tell me that the lives of the Byers' aren't worth paying extra for protection. They're scared. They deserve a shot at living, and they've kept your dirty little secrets..." 

The agent takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes. Hopper sees the cogs turning in his mind, realizing that what he's saying is right. "The Byers have no clue why you're really here, don't they?" 

"They don't need to know." Hopper shoots back. "I'm not gonna put them through hell once again, especially when they're finally finding peace. If I tell Joyce now..." he shakes his head, feeling uneasy from the thoughts coming into his mind.  "If I tell her, she'll break. She's broke enough already by now. If you're not gonna keep them safe on your own time, then quick dicking me around about putting them into WITSEC."

Silence hangs between them for a moment before the agent reaches his hand out. "You got the file with you?" 

Hopper reaches into his jacket. "It's just a travel copy. Basic information that you've probably already got." he hands the manila folder over, watching as the agent flips through it with furrowed brows. 

Hopper leans back in his seat with uneasy tension, folding his hands in his lap anxiously. "Auburn, Alabama. November 2nd. That was the last sighting you've received word of?" the agent asks without looking up. 

"Yeah. That's the last time the bureau contacted me."

"Nothing else?"

"No."

"Not even from your detectives?"

"No!" Hopper retorts, almost a little too loudly. 

Agent Rhodes stares at the file for a few more moments, pursing his lips as his eyes skimmed through. "Alright," he exhales, moving to stand up from his chair. "Most of your evidence is back in Hawkins, wanna take a look at what we've got? Refresh yourself a bit?" 

Hopper follows him out of the office, trailing down the hall to a previously empty evidence room that was now a living shrine of the FBI's findings. 

"We went through hell tryna' keep this case away from the NSA even though the target is practically a threat to national security. Knowing them, we'd never hear another word. Thankfully, at least one FBI precinct in each state has been assigned to keep their eyes peeled and work whatever information hits their jurisdiction. Given that the Byers family relocated to Georgia, the two main Federal precincts working the case are us and Indianapolis." 

Hopper barely heard a word that the agent said, all he could do was stare around the room. Every wall, every surface, everything was covered in detailed findings. It put his dedicated evidence room to shame. 

He walked closer to the lefthand wall which held all descriptive matches of reported sightings right down to the millisecond the call was placed. "Wait a second." 

"What?" the agent asked, following closely behind Hopper. 

"There are no pictures." 

"What do you mean there are no pictures? Look around, we got pictures of the bastard everywhere." Rhodes responds with a curt laugh.

"No." Jim shakes his head. "No pictures from the sightings. No CCTV, no Polaroids, no nothin'. You can't seriously be telling me that you're going on people's words alone." his voice was raising into the same tone he gave Callahan and Powell when they were half-assing their jobs.

Rhodes threw his hands in the air with a sarcastic laugh. "What do you want me to say? He dodged the footage we could find, CCTV isn't down to an exact science just yet. And none of the callers thought to whip out their cameras and take a photo with a man who was seen on the FBI's most wanted list." 

Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose, attempting to regain his composure. "Alright. Alright, fine. Did your Techs get anything off of his trail? Any pattern, anything that could predict his next move?"

Rhodes walks over to the map on the right-hand wall, shaking his head as he stared at the eleven marker pins on it. "Not much. His M.O. is to throw us off of his trail, but he knows we're on to him. He's leaving breadcrumbs, but just enough to show us what he's up to, but not to lead us straight to him. In and out of states, no set time limit of how long he's staying where he is. He's planned it out to make it look messy, but it's strategic. So strategic that it's actually worked. As of now, if he isn't heading straight towards us in Glynn County, then we don't know where he's going." 

"I don't fucking get it!" Hopper's hands smack downwards at his sides before they begin tracing along each string of pathways on the map. "First he's seen in Owensville, Indiana. That's normal, he's fleeing the state. Next, he's in Richmond Heights, Missouri, which doesn't add up if his original target is Georgia. Then he jumps down to Huntsville, Arkansas, which again, makes no sense if his target is going south. He goes all the way outward to Seminole, Oklahoma. He recrosses state lines of Arkansas at Brinkley, which he never really needed to leave Arkansas just to return again. Then he's northbound for Jackson, Tennessee. Comes all the way back down to Starkville Mississippi. Finally, he sticks closer to southern lines when he's spotted thrice in Alabama in Decatur, Anniston, and Auburn." Hopper stops, turning to the agent. "Why go through all of that trouble if he could've made a straight shot right down to Glynn County?" 

Rhodes exhales deeply, shaking his head vaguely. "I mean — predictability? You said it yourself, he knows what he's doing. He wants it to look scattered like he's headed nowhere and everywhere. He's got no connections as far as we know in any of those places, or anywhere around them. It was Hawkins and that was it." The agent pauses, looking up and out of the corner of his eye at Jim. "Why are you trying so hard to figure out his logic behind where he's visiting?"

Hopper pauses for a moment, his eyes attached to the small green target pin that was pushed into Jekyll Island's location on the map.  "Because... It isn't sitting well with me. It's too random and we're missing something." he whispers quietly. 

"Look," Rhodes turns to face him. "You've got my number, I've got the number for the Byers' house. If anything at all happens, I will make sure that you're one of the first to know. We've got agents moving in two doors down from the Byers' condo, and two working the island parking tolls. We're just pulling back on some of the eyes we've got elsewhere. They'll be fine. Here, take your file." he handed the manila envelope back to Hopper, who was staring at him with his jaw slightly open. 

"Right. Yeah, they'll be fine," he muttered, not believing a single word that came out of his mouth.

 

* * *

 

 

He shifts the blazer into park when he reaches Joyce's driveway, sitting and contemplating as he stared out at the waves in the distance. Once again, he was reminded that the water had a soul. Living by its own rules. 

_Lucky._

The tension releases in his shoulders as his hands come away from the steering wheel. He becomes overwhelmed with the feeling of the need to have Joyce in his arms. He needs to feel her wrap her tiny hands around his waist and bring her head to his chest. To sway back and forth as he takes in her presence so close to him. 

He needs her. He knows the difference between a want and a need. He needs her. 

She was the one who was tired of living in danger, but now he was the one who carried the burden of that stress. She was working so hard on herself, to rebuild what broke. All he knew how to do was let her fix herself while he fended off the danger. But it felt like the walls were closing in and his palms against either side were no longer enough to force the collapsing walls apart. He was being crushed; trying to balance both protecting her physically and emotionally.

The thought of losing her was enough to truly shake him to the core. As if the fear had a grip on his spine, running through every vein and capillary in his body. It was toxifying his nervous system down to every last fiber. 

On other days, he would remind himself that Joyce was safe. Today, he could not promise himself that. He could not look her in the eyes and know for sure whether or not she would be out of harm's way. It could be tonight, tomorrow, or a year from now. Danger wasn't something she could run from anymore because it was finding her faster than her feet could carry her. The threat of losing her was becoming inevitable, and it was fucking terrifying. 

All he wanted to do was protect her. To lose her would be to lose almost everything that mattered to him. Besides Elle, Joyce and her family were all he had left. Losing her would shift the gravity of his world, flipping it entirely into something he wouldn't be able to survive. He was truly shaken up for the first time in a very long time. 

The sound of his own sniffle pulled his attention back to the real world. He was crying and he hadn't even realized it. 

The crushing need to hold her began to overpower him enough to shut the vehicle off and find her. When he walked into the house, she was standing alone in the kitchen, the television playing quietly in the background. 

"Hey," she whispered when she looked up and saw him. There was still a twinge of hurt in her eyes from their disagreement earlier, but as soon as she saw the expression on his face, it began to melt away. "You get that shirt for Ellie?" 

"Wh—oh." he shook his head, remembering his pathetic lie from when he left. "No, they didn't have it." 

She knew just from looking at him that he was lying, but it wasn't bothering her as much as she expected it to. The redness around his eyes and the obvious dried tears were enough for her to see that his whereabouts weren't up for discussion. 

"Baby, what's wrong?" she frowned, coming around the kitchen island. Her soft voice sounded just as sad as he felt. Her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling his much larger body into hers. "Talk to me, what's wrong?"

His grip on her was tighter than usual, holding her as closely as he could. He focused on the feeling of her chest rising and falling against him. She was still alive, the black hole hadn't swallowed her up just yet. His hands roughly threaded through her hair as he pulled back to look down at her sparkling brown eyes. "I uh— I'm gonna stay as long as I possibly can, okay? I'll have the school fax over any of Elle's homework that she's missing. I'm not leaving just yet."

The sound of his heavy breathing startled her, but the fierce look in his eyes felt like a blanket of safety being wrapped around her. "Okay," she whispered, her lips barely moving and the worry in her expression grew deeper. "Just tell me you're okay."

 He kisses her before she can barely get the words entirely out. "I am now," he replies, resting his head on hers as his arms wrap tightly around her once again. 

Time felt limited now, and he was going to take advantage of whatever time he had left. It felt like a familiar tug in his bones. The black hole was on its way — or at least he thought it was

 


	16. Chapter Sixteen - A Moment and a Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopper tries to cope with the idea of hiding his secret from Joyce, meanwhile, the FBI begins to move in on their protection plan over the Byers, except it may be a little too late.
> 
> Song(s) of the Chapter: Slip Away by Perfume Genius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, I was not happy with this chapter. yikes.

The voice in his head was no longer his own. It was someone else now. A vaguely familiar and dark voice, emitting from the darkness. The shadows were betraying him as they now answered to someone else. 

If it were any other case, he'd ask himself how he'd be able to get into the perpetrator's head. What scares him? But there was nothing. Not a single inkling of an idea as to how he could get inside the bastard's mind and lure him out with fear. 

How do you scare the devil when the devil is scared of nothing?

The moment his eyes close, he's right back in that FBI evidence room. The walls stare back at him, ribbons of red yarn linking from map to map. Wanted posters with different photos, all with the same face of evil. A darkness in those eyes that could make even an angel believe that they were in hell. And that stupid fucking smile. 

_Stop. Stop thinking about it._

His eyes flash open, and the beach has filled his entire field of vision. He doesn't remember walking here, or even considering going outside, but here he stands. 

As the days go by and the stress sitting on his chest builds, he begins to understand Joyce more and more. The way she could go dead behind the eyes and stare out at the water for hours on end. Allowing herself a moment to be the numb and empty shell she felt she needed to be. He understood it before, but now he was able to comprehend it entirely. 

It almost seemed as if they've switched places.

A string of cigarette smoke leaves his slightly ajar lips, fading off into the light wind that swept the shore. The pathway of his sturdy footprints stops directly behind him and he isn't sure when they will resume their adventure. All he can do at the moment is stand completely still. 

The light of the sun reflecting off of the water blurs in his vision, obstructed by the way his lashes hang low in front of his eyes. Its just shapes. Circles of yellow and orange from the sunlight bouncing off of the waves. 

His eyes close once again before he can stop them, and he's back inside the four walls of the evidence room. It seemed almost as if the images had replaced the back of his eyelids, shuttling him back and forth from reality to a nightmare with every blink. 

The lies were eating him alive just as the fear had done to Joyce. Through this entire journey, he hadn't planned his ending movements. He didn't know how he would react or solve the problem, yet he continued pursuing it. Everything was up in the air, waiting for gravity to force it back down and shatter everything. Sooner or later, she would find out where his intentions stemmed from. She could be furious with him, shutting him out forever under the notion that she would never trust him again.

She had every right to do that. 

He saw her life as being in imminent danger and he took initiative, even if it meant going behind her back. Working with the FBI to try to keep her family safe all without her knowledge. She didn't have a single clue as far as he could tell. 

She would find out. As soon as the gravity would resume, she would know. Things would not stay up in the air forever, and what goes up must always come down. This entire situation would hit the ground faster than he could ever even try to stop it. Maybe he had signed up for that. To the knowledge that protecting her may mean losing her. 

He was thinking in circles, constantly finding himself right back where he had begun. The same theories, the same worries, the same fear. All so damn repetitive. 

Once again, just as he had felt weeks ago, he recognized that he was free-falling. 

No parachute, no promise of security or safety. Just the sound of the low-tide waves cresting and splashing against the water; reminding him that despite the fact that he was plummeting, his feet were still on the ground as of right now.

He was actively making a mistake, yet there was no right choice to be made either. At the end of the day, his blood would still run red and he would feel the wounds he was creating for himself. All there was left to do was pray that he had made the better of the two mistakes he could make. 

He'd rather lose her presence in his life from anger and mistrust than lose her life from a bullet he had practically led her in front of. 

They were left with only the waiting game now. The black hole would be en route towards him once again, and he was preparing himself to face it once more. The truth was, he knew he couldn't outrun it forever. He could hold it back, he could push it away, but in the end, it would come for him and everything he loves.

A war was approaching. Something catastrophic, something tragic, something that would take every ounce of fight that he had left within him. 

The waves must've sensed his dismay because he was suddenly hit with a nose full of thick salt water air. The ocean would sing to him, attempting to calm his nerves as best as they knew how.  Whoever said the ocean didn't have a soul didn't know a damn thing as far as he was concerned. 

"Hop?" a gentle voice called from behind him, "You okay, honey?" Joyce gave him a worrisome frown as her hand ran down the back of his hoodie, her thumb stroking gently against the small of his back.

He lets out a heavy exhale, not quite sure how to respond. His arm snakes through her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Yeah, I'm okay," he lies, his nearly silent volume matching hers. He brushes his cheek against the top of her head before pressing a soft kiss into the part in her hair. Breathing in her scent did a lot more to calm him down than the ocean ever could. 

"You sure?" she asks, wrapping both of her arms around his waist while his hand rested on her shoulder. She had sensed the change in him, watching it take over his state of mind just as it had happened to her. He was hiding something, yet she wasn't brave enough to ask him what it was. She couldn't help but wonder if she even wanted to know. She had found trust within the water, and she was going to trust his actions and reasoning — whatever they may be. 

The longer she stood with her arms wrapped around him, the quicker the mental image of the evidence room disappeared from his vision. Her touch had evened his breath back to normal, washing away the fear that crept through his veins. She was an inexplicable person to him. A missing piece of himself that healed him when nearby. 

Within the same movement as the wind, he leans down and crashes his lips down onto hers. She had felt a cathartic release in the water, yet he felt it within her. Her arms release from his torso and wrap around his neck, returning the kiss more hungrily than he expected. She's magnificent. 

She's breathtaking in every way, shape, and form. 

 

* * *

 

 

He's sitting alone on the porch of Joyce's house when it first catches his eye. A black and tinted vehicle disguised as a moving truck pulling in through the condo site's parkway. Two doors down, just as Rhodes had told him. Two plainclothes agents stepped out from either side of the truck, unlocking the hatchback and hauling boxes into the apartment.

Each box they carried had been labeled, just as if they were an ordinary couple moving in down the street. Nothing out of the ordinary that a stranger would be able to spot. But he wasn't a stranger. He knew that within the box labeled 'kitchen' was most likely full of cameras and recording gear. He knew that behind the label of 'Dining Room' was a massive stack of folders, maps, photos, and reports. 'Guest Bedroom' was filled with weapons and extra ammunition in case all hell broke loose.

But to the outside world, they were a perfectly normal set of humans who were moving into a beach house down the lane. Even to Joyce, they would be strangers. Except they wouldn't be who they were pretending to be. There would be no long walks on the beach together, or going on sightseeing trips to the Club House or Driftwood Beach. Most likely, the people who saw them enter would never see them leave. They were here to work, watch, and protect.

The male agent caught his eye, returning the emotionless gaze at Hopper. There was anger behind the stranger's eyes, suspicion running deep into his belly. He didn't trust Hopper. He probably didn't trust anybody.

Hopper knew he was making their jobs incredibly difficult. Insisting upon the idea that Joyce doesn't need to know what's happening around her and that he could manage to keep the whole charade a secret. To keep her out of the loop and therefore without the anxiety she would feel if she knew what was happening around her; because of her. Most protection plans didn't work around the idea of leaving the protected in the dark — maybe that's why he was on the wrong end of a nasty glare. 

But something else caught his eye. His familiar new neighbor swiftly walking past the front of the house with a bakery box in her hands. "Ruth?" he asked, rushing down the front steps to catch up with her. 

"Jimmy! How is the day treating you?" she asks with a gleeful smile, barely pausing her strides across the sidewalk. 

"Good, I guess," he replies. "Um, whatcha' got there?" At this point, he knew Ruth well enough that she was rather nosey. Seeing her rush over to the undercover agents nearly made his blood run cold. 

"Oh, this?" she motions at the cardboard box in her hands. "Seems that we've got some new neighbors who are going to be here for a while. Thought I'd welcome them with some fresh muffins from the market. My gosh, they do seem a little young to be moving here, don't you think?" she whispers the second part of her remark in a bit of a judgemental tone. As if it were some sort of taboo and the town would burn her for hearing the words escape her lips.

"You uh — you sure that's a good idea?" he sputters, hoping her fast footsteps will slow down and he'll be able to talk her out of this. "I mean, who knows. They could be criminals or-or even serial killers!" God, even he isn't convinced by the sound of his voice. 

"Oh, please! People like that? We don't get those kindsa' folks down here. And anyway, look at 'em. They can't older than their late twenties, they've probably been in diapers longer than it would take to rack up a record. It'll be a nice warm welcome for them." she's persistent. Probably even more persistent than Joyce— which is saying something. 

Hopper's heart sped up in his chest as they got closer. He was usually good at thinking quickly on his feet, but his mind was entirely void of ideas. 

The undercover agents stop midmovement, spinning on their heals to face him and the older woman at his side. Hopper fidgets with his hands anxiously awaiting whatever fire he'll have to put out from Ruth's filterless mouth. 

"Hi there," she breaks out the same overly-comforting southern accent he had first heard from her. "I'm Ruth, your new neighbor. You two look like you are just a lovely couple!"

"Thank you, ma'am." the male agent responds with monotony in his words, barely showing a sliver of emotion on his face. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Keith." he forces a smile onto his face before looking up from the woman and over to Hopper. "And you must be —"

"Jim Hopper." he grinds out, momentarily wondering if he could break his teeth from clamping his jaw shut with extensive force. His arm reaches out stiffly, being met with the angriest handshake he had ever felt. 

"Well,  _Keith._ " Ruth grins, putting emphasis on his name. "These are for you. Fresh muffins from the bakery at the market, they're absolutely wonderful. A little bit of a welcome to the island." she hands him the box and Hopper prays that this will be the end of the interaction. 

"Thank you," he responds, taking the box into his hands almost robotically. Hopper furrows his brows, beginning to question who the hell screwed this kid over during his lessons how to be passable as a normal human being. 

"I'll catch up with you later, Ruth," Hopper says as the woman turns her back and walks away. As soon as she's out of earshot, he faces the agent once again. "I'm assuming you're —"

"Special Agent Bryan Kincaid." the man practically growls his name in anger. "And you're going to stay the hell out of our way and let us do our jobs." the bite in his voice causes Hopper to flex his fists, forcing away the frustration that was beginning to build up. 

He stares down his nose, narrowing his eyes slowly as he watches for a shift in the agent's face. Anything. Something. A small tell, twitch, or a breath in the wrong direction. He's dealt with federal agents a handful of times in his life, and he knows what a pain they can be. Rhodes was practically the only one whom he'd ever been able to have a decent conversation with that didn't end in a fist fight. 

More than anything, he had surprised himself by even considering asking for help from the FBI. He had no reason to trust them, no reason to even think about them. It was Sam Owens who had been the one to convince him to talk to the Feds. They helped him work the case and protect Joyce in return for his silence about their past wrongdoings. Those were his only demands. He wasn't going to hand this over to them without being allowed to work the majority of it himself. Funny how they hadn't even tried to negotiate with him. 

Blackmailable secrets tended to be the best way of getting what he wanted.

He wanted Joyce to be safe. 

 

* * *

 

 

The sun had set for the evening, leaving only the single lamplight illuminating the room. The two of them were laying at the opposite end of the bed, staring up at the ceiling with their hands intertwined with one another's. He knows he should sleep, he's overtired to the point where he doesn't even feel the exhaustion. He'll feel it tomorrow instead.   
  
But he can't sleep because what he has in front of him is a moment, and moments are fleeting. If things were going to go down the way he was expecting them to, he'd regret closing his eyes and letting the moment pass. A minute, or even a second gone unappreciated; he wouldn't allow that to happen.

She was incredible at this moment just as she was at any other moment. Bare legs tangled up in the white sheets that barely cover their exposed bodies. Any trace of her lightly worn makeup was completely gone now and he couldn't get over just how perfect she looked without it. 

"I'm glad you're here," she breaks the silence first, tilting her head to the side to look at him. Her voice sounds nearly breathless to him, almost like she's been waiting to say it the entire time. He sees the whisper of a smile on her lips and his heart clamps in his chest. She meant what she said, he could see it.

Her dark brown eyes are searching for something on his face, yet he isn't sure what it is. 

"I'm glad I'm here too," he tries to hide the apprehension in his voice because he knows that she can hear it. He is glad to be around her; he'd be glad to be around her anywhere. But she doesn't know why he's here or why he's staying — or even why he's terrified right down to his bones. 

 _'Tell her, just tell her,'_  the voice in his head repeats for the thousandth time. He doesn't want to tell her, yet he's scared that the truth with fall from his lips before he can stop himself.  _'It would be selfish to tell her,'_  the second voice adds. He isn't sure which voice was supposed to be acting as the angel and which one was the devil.

All he wants is to run his fingers through her hair and know for a fact that it won't be the last time he'll ever be able to do so. To kiss her and forget the fear that it might be the last kiss they ever share. Falling in love with her wasn't part of his assignment, but here they were. Maybe he had fallen long before this task was even at hand. 

"I know you were upset when I moved here, Hopper." she sighs with a long drawn out breath, watching his demeanor drop into a sad frown. "But I feel safe here. No monsters, no bad guys, no secrets. It's like I can breathe again." the relief in her confession broke his heart. She wasn't safe, she just believed that she was. 

The pressure in his chest was building to a near-impossible level of pain. She had seen enough pain, lived through enough tragedy, and she was certain it was over with.  But she was so wrong. She couldn't see the fight that was just over the hill. "I'm glad you feel that way," he choked out, praying that he sounded the slightest bit convincing.

"I was lonely, though." her eyes drift down to his lips, watching as his teeth tugged at the skin. "But then you showed up." her hand strokes along his cheek as she smiles softly, her fingertips grazing his skin as lightly as possible. 

He's fighting to find the right words but there aren't any. He can't tell her how much he misses her back home. He can't tell her anything he wants to say because no matter what it is, it will have repercussions. 

 "You don't have to be lonely anymore." his deep blue eyes are only inches away from hers and the small space between them feels as if it's beginning to crack. He wonders if she can see the pain in his eyes; if she can see just how badly it's killing him. 

"Is that actually true though?" her voice is careful, almost as if she's recoiling from her own words. Once again, her eyes begin searching for something on his face. He sees her fears beginning to show their head. 

"Joyce, I don't care if I have to fly here every damn weekend. I'm not giving this up. I'm not giving you up. Especially not after I've wanted this since we were fifteen years old." 

A cheeky smile grows on her face from his words. "Really? Fifteen?" 

He rolls his eyes and laughs, scrubbing his palms against his face. "Yeah," he admits awkwardly. "Yeah, fifteen years old. I'd see you walking down the hallways and you'd have this little _'fuck the patriarchy'_ attitude and I just fell head over heels in love with you. Tiny little 5'2 Joycie Horowitz who would sit on the roof of the Hawkins Liquor Store and watch the sun go down every single Thursday afternoon." 

"You've been in love with me f-for twenty-five years?" she asks breathlessly, all emotion on her face being replaced with a soft look of shock. His eyes shift down to look at the way her lower lip is sticking out, just as it always does when she's caught off guard. 

His nod is barely visible and his answer comes with an impossibly soft kiss pressed against her lips. He still marvels at just how gently she is, how delicate her lips really are. Too many people have been given the privilege to have her taste on their mouth. Undeserving people. Although he wasn't too sure if he was deserving of this himself, he would refuse to let the world take it away from him. 

Her palms come up and brace his cheeks within them while her lips are searching with more hunger. He loves her. God, he fucking loves everything about her. He can feel the soft and quiet moans coming from her chest while his lips muffle the sound. Perfection. Every inch of her. 

Within one quick movement, he slips under the sheets and throws her bare legs over his shoulders. "Hop, you don't have to if—  _Jesus!"_ she forces herself to keep her volume down as she spits out a string of expletives. His tongue swipes at her opening, just the right amount of pressure he could possibly give. Her hands reach down below the covers before her fingernails nearly dig into his skull. 

His lips attached to her clit, eliciting a cry from her as his tongue spun circles around the oversensitive bundle of nerves. "Do-don't stop. Please, _fuck_ , don't stop." she gasps, trying to hold back her hips from seeking more friction against him. 

His beard is tickling her skin and his mouth feels like pure magic. He must've felt her legs beginning to shake because he moves his tongue's direction away and towards her delicate folds. Her muscles are quivering and her toes are curling as his calloused fingers bite into the soft skin of her thighs. 

She feels herself edging towards the end as he continues his unrelenting motions. "Hop-Hopper, I need you.  _Please,_ " she's begging and her wincing sounds like music to his ears, egging him onto to keep going, keep pushing her closer and closer. 

Without warning, his free hand moves in and he slips a finger into her throbbing core. The moans filling the room grow louder and louder while the pads of his fingers hit every explosive spot inside of her. In the back of his mind, he knows they should be better about their volume but he can't bring himself to give a single fuck about anything other than her body. 

The sensations of his lips sucking on her clit becomes too much to handle and her hands force his head away. "Inside me, now." she orders, and he's happy to oblige to her bossy bedroom attitude. Within a few quick movements, he's sitting up and hoisting her into his lap. 

One of her arms hooks around his neck while he reaches beneath them, teasingly tracing his cock against her dripping center. "Stop teasing—" she whimpers, nearly in pain from the intense feeling of needing him inside of her. Her free hand moves down to take ahold of his length, putting an end to the wait and guiding it inside of her. 

She pauses as he's halfway inside of her, allowing her body to adjust to the sudden intrusion. "Take your time," he whispers before kissing the corner of her mouth. "As slow as you need," 

The moment passes and the burning sensation is replaced with complete and utter pleasure. Sinking down to take in the rest of him, their eyes meet and they both release a whimpering moan in unison. 

"I will never ever get used to how fucking amazing you feel. How incredible it feels to have you wrapped around my cock," he whispers into her ear, his hand cradling the back of her head as she rests against the junction of his neck. Her nails are already clawing at his back, holding onto him as tightly as she can. 

She feels so wet and warm around him and he's absolutely certain that if he were to die right now, he'd die as the happiest man on Earth. 

Her hips begin to move softly and every muscle in her body feels weak with the need to rest her body against his. To just feel him, to feel the moment as it would soon form into a memory. The friction of her skin against his was a perfect match to feeling him move inside of her. 

Her walls tighten around him, igniting every nerve ending in his body as she grinds down harder into him. "Fuck me," she breathes the words, sending shivers down my spine. His movements became more urgent, thrusting into her with fervor. 

With a slight tilt of her hips, she feels him hit against a spot that causes her to release needy whine. Her hand is gripping the back of his neck while she pulls her head away from his shoulder and rests her forehead against his. "I love you," she whispers, momentarily throwing herself off guard by the fact that she hadn't realized she was saying it until the words left her lips. 

He returned the sentiment in a choppy voice, barely able to register what his name is let alone the things he was saying. Without warning, he feels her beginning to tremble once again and he knows that she's about to pique.

" _Fuck._ Come for me, Joyce. Come for me." his thrusts gain momentum, matching her speed of movement before his hand reaches between them to draw circles around her clit. The world around her begins to shatter at the sound of his voice and everything goes black from the pleasure bursting at the seams. His climax follows closely behind hers, releasing himself inside of her while he feels her breathing beginning to slow. 

Neither of them move as they come down from their highs, and she's fairly certain that she'll never move again. Instead, she clutches onto him, allowing herself to stay seated with him still burying her to the hilt. 

"I love you too," he responds once his head begins to clear. It clicks in his mind that she's hugging him. His arms wrap around her as tightly as possible, cradling her exhausted body. "I love you so much,"

 

 


	17. Chapter Seventeen - The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopper deals with a gut instinct that something bad is going to happen, leaving him to try and spend as much time with Joyce as possible
> 
> Song of the Chapter - All I Want by Echos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SAD THIS IS STARTING TO END. I THINK ITS ONLY GONNA GO TO 20 CHAPTERS :((((((  
> anyway, it's about to get exciting.

The worrying feeling in his stomach was persistent. Nerves and instincts trying to alert him that something will soon cause a rift in his life. He's had this feeling for quite a while now, but today it seems to be stronger than he's ever felt.

The first rule he ever learned in the police academy was to trust his gut, yet today he wished he could refuse. Just simply say no to the universe's warning. But ignoring that would be the biggest mistake he could possibly make, and he wasn't ignorant to that fact. More than likely, his gut instincts would be what keeps Joyce alive.

Deep breaths aren't enough to calm the anxiety that seems to continue growing within him. The clock was ticking faster now, and the black-hole was only within reaching distance. This was it. Something would erupt, life as he was beginning to know it would come to an end. He wasn't sure why or how, but it would. 

Over the years, he had learned to trust that instinct. The very first time he had felt it at such a strong magnitude, Sara had taken her last breath only a few hours later. After that, he knew that the feeling was meant to have attention paid towards it. 

But he just didn't want to. He didn't want to bring himself to believe that this was it. That it was finally happening no matter how hard he had tried to put it off. He wanted to feel his toes in the sand and feel the heat on his skin for as long as possible. More than anything, he wanted to feel the security of Joyce's safety even longer. 

For the rest of his life. For the rest of hers too.

They're standing on the pier, her hand underneath of his as they gaze down at the water. The kids are at the other end of the platform fishing, laughing as they reel in the lines only to find that their hooks have clasped together. 

They're good kids, he thinks. 

Too good for any of this. This should be only his burden. The rest of them don't deserve this kind of pain. If he could take it all away and bear the cross on his back only, he wouldn't even think twice. They needed a good life more than he did. In his eyes, the world had designated him as a home for trauma. Someone needed to go through hell, so the universe had picked him. He wasn't always too fond of that, but now that Joyce and the kids were thrown in the mix, he couldn't possibly want to be the one feeling hurt and agony any more than he was right now. If it meant sparing them the pain, he would do so with his head held as high as possible.

He would take the volunteer to take the bullet instead.

But that wasn't the case. No matter how badly he wanted to be the only recipient of the pain, they would feel it too. They've lived it alongside him. A life of fear and pain that nobody should ever have to go through. 

The gentle waves crash against the pillars supporting the pier, soaking the wood with each droplet in motion. It's mesmerizing to watch; the push and pull of the water that has fascinated him since his arrival here. Oh, how he wants to float away with it. 

Reality won't allow that. Reality will force him to face the monsters under the bed, the evil waiting in the shadows. Reality wants him to feel every ounce of the nerve wracking instincts that are trying to warn him. Floating away in the water is not something he's allowed to do. Not now, not ever. 

If he had a choice, he would spend every moment of the rest of his life right here. He wanted to, but he couldn't. Elle needed to stay in the life she had grown accustomed to. It wouldn't be healthy to uproot her away from everything she had worked so hard to build. That would be cruel and no matter how badly he wanted to, he just couldn't do it. 

Six months without Joyce felt like ten years. A few weeks alongside her felt like an eternity. It was a beautiful eternity though. Watching her every move, right down to how her eyelashes bat against her cheeks. Soaking in the little details just in case he never sees them again. He was refusing to take these moments for granted because he had been shown more than anybody what taking life for granted can do to a person. 

He learned so much about her in such a short time. He'd known her for so many years, yet it seemed as if he could write an entire book about all of the things Joyce Byers had shown about herself to him during this trip. She has a dimple next to her chin that shows only when she smiles; when she  _really_  smiles. Her favorite way to sleep is with her leg hiked up under her chest. She prefers powder cream in her coffee rather than the liquid kind. So many tiny details that nobody else had paid attention to. Or at least she had allowed the wrong and undeserving men to see those tiny little bits and pieces of her. 

But it wasn't the inconsequential details that made her incredible, it was the way she didn't realize how much of an impact she had on him. 

Little by little, she was teaching him how to love again. How to really open his heart and feel the emotions he thought he'd never feel again. To let go of the fear and vulnerability surrounding love and adoration. She was reopening the chapters of himself that he thought he had closed for good. 

The wind coming off of the water brushed his hair backward, cooling down the anxious heat that grew in his cheeks. He didn't want to leave, but he would have no choice soon enough. He would remember the salt water in the air and he would remember the way the atmosphere here was softer. The world had shown him an edge of itself that wasn't so harsh; a place where Joyce needed to be, but a place where he couldn't be. 

She's silently looking up at him, watching his eyes scan over the horizon of water. "Hop," she says gently. "You're quiet. What's going on?" a sense of worry trickles into her words as her brows knit together. 

He takes a deep inhale, refusing to drag his eyes away from the scene in front of him. "Just thinkin'," he responds quietly. His voice wasn't harsh or rough as it used to be anymore. Instead, his words are of a softer nature, no longer a sting to someone's eardrums. 

Her palm runs against the fabric of his hoodie that covers his back. "Thinking about what?" its less of a question and more of an offer. A refusal to overstep any unforeseen boundaries that may cause him to recoil and close back up. She isn't asking him what he's thinking about, she's offering to listen.

"How is it that some places in the world are the only ones to see true pain?" he exhales quietly, training his focus on the ripples of water. "I mean, there are places in this world that don't understand what pain really means. Then there are places where they see pain every single day like its nothing. Disease, famine, tragedy. How does the universe decide where to place people in the world without playing favorites?" 

The overwhelming philosophy behind his question nearly knocks her over. She hadn't really thought of that before. "Maybe the universe knows where people need to be in order to make the right impact. The strongest people are sent to war because they can fight, it'd be useless to send a weak person to war. Especially if the universe wants them to win. But they can't fight with their entire heart and soul until they know what kind of pain they're fighting. They have to feel it, survive it. They need to know how bad pain can get so the battle doesn't seem as bad." 

"But what is the point behind the battle?" he questions. "Why would the universe create a war to be fought if they don't want it happening in the first place?"

"To teach a lesson," her words cause a reaction within him and his blue eyes are suddenly staring down at hers. "Without a lesson of how strongly actions can be, everybody would be running around with guns blazing because they wouldn't understand consequences. But the strong people who are sent off to fight are the ones who are capable of making enough of an impact, except they can't make that impact until they know how deeply pain can go."

"Do you really believe that?" Hopper asks, his lips barely moving as he spoke. He wasn't questioning her logic, but instead actually wondering if she meant what she said. 

Her teeth nip at her bottom lip while her head nods slightly. "Yeah. But I also believe in hope. I mean, hope is a lot like the sun. If you only ever believed in it when you saw it, you'd never make it through the night." 

He sees a sense of confirmation in her eyes that he's never seen before. Joyce fucking Byers making the most impressive emotional progress he had ever seen. At that moment, he wonders if he's ever been more proud of her in his entire life than he is right now. 

She had actually gotten what she had come here for. Healing.  

Something he didn't think was possible. But maybe it hadn't been possible for him because he had never really had any hope. Hope was all she's ever had since the beginning. 

Hope would get him through not only the night but the nightmare as well. 

 

* * *

 

 

This time, he's sitting on the beach. He isn't standing and admiring the water as it washes over his ankles; instead, he's sitting on the sand with his knees pressed to his chest. His feet are buried under the porous ground as the tide begins to recede.

Even though it's barely three in the afternoon, he's cradling a bottle of cold beer because he needs it now more than ever. It starts to hit him that he's spent a lot of time alone here. In a way, it's been nice. Elle has been busy with Will, Joyce is always around somewhere close to him, yet private moments are valued. 

He shouldn't want time alone, he tells himself. He should want to spend every waking moment with Joyce while he still can. But he can't. Not right now. It hurts more than he's expected it to, even though he isn't sure what exactly is hurting him. He's in the dark, trying to adjust his eyes to see what the hell is in front of him.

He doesn't know what will happen, or even when it will, all he knows is that he's on the cusp of a life-changing moment. It's weird how usually people don't see those moments coming, but he can feel it with his entirety. He knows that the tectonic plates beneath his feet will soon shift, either ruining his life or pushing the pieces back together.

The sound of footsteps behind him brought his attention back to the real world. Ruth was shifting to sit next to him, nursing a drink of her own. Even with her sunglasses on, he could see her looking at him from the corner of her eye. 

"You love her, Jimmy?" she asks after a moment of silence. It was such a simple question; if it were even a question at all. It sounded to him more like she just wanted confirmation to her suspicions. 

"Yeah," he breathes the word out, barely moving his lips as he speaks. Yes, he loves her more than a person could ever comprehend. He loves her to the point where it hurts; like a vice grip on his heart. Of course, he fucking loves her. 

"Then quit worrying so damn much," Ruth replies with a lack of empathy and a southern flare. He wants to laugh, and on any normal day, he probably would. She reminds him of Elle quite a bit. Like the world couldn't be any simpler in her eyes, no matter how complicated things could get. "You're gonna worry yourself six feet into the ground, I swear by it."

"It's more complicated than you think it is, Ruth." he punctuates his sentence with a sip from his bottle, keeping his eyes attached to the waves splashing against the shoreline. "I worry because I love her. Don't you think it'd be a little weird if I loved her and  _didn't_  worry?"

"Well, yes that would be weird but you're not worrying the right way!" her comment earns a chuckle from him, unable to keep himself from cracking a small smile. "You're supposed to worry about the people you love, but you're not supposed to let that worry reign over your life. You gotta get rid of some of that worry and spend that time making a memory instead. That's how you love someone. Findin' just the right amount between worry and trust." 

She has a point. He knows that she does, but he just doesn't want to hear it. "Don't you ever worry about Henry? What would you do without him?"

"My husband is about as useful as a trapdoor on a canoe, Jimmy." he hears the faint laughter in her remark, knowing that it's all in good fun. "Yes, as we get older I worry about him. But I don't let that get in the way of the time I have left to spend with him."

Hopper stops at the moment, feeling like he was suddenly hit by a truck. A complete and utter pause, right down to the breath hitching in his chest. "Wh-what if I don't have a lot of time left to spend with her?" he asks quietly, allowing his vulnerability to show for just a second. She won't understand the magnitude of the question, he already knows. She has no clue what is truly happening around her. 

Ruth furrows her eyebrows as she lowers her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. "What in heaven's name would make you say that?" she asks, her voice dropping an octave and her words laced with fear. 

He shouldn't have said it. He's already said too much but it just slipped out. "Me and her..." he winces as the words come out slowly and carefully. "We've been through a lot, Ruth. More than most people can comprehend. And I'm just... I'm just scared."

"You know what I've learned in my sixty-five years of life? Alright, fine, seventy," she says before taking a quick sip of her drink. "Love isn't just about the feelings you have for someone. It really isn't. Not entirely, at least. Loving someone, truly loving them also means protecting them. You're not in love with someone until you'd step in front of a bullet for them. Love isn't just what you feel, it's what you do with that feeling. How you honor it." she pauses, watching as he gives her his full attention. "If you truly, deeply love her, you're gonna protect her from whatever it is that's scaring you so badly." 

"I'm trying to," he whispers almost breathlessly. 

"Does this have to do with what happened back in Hawkins?" Ruth asks, her voice sounding lethal in a sense. He wasn't sure what she knew as far as what had happened back home. Odds were that Joyce hadn't told her the truth, just the modified version that wasn't prosecutable from the non-disclosure forms. "It has to do with what happened to your daughter and Will, doesn't it?"

He gulps, trying to swallow the feeling of a rock being lodged in his throat. He was sitting with his toes buried in the sand and still, everything about the horrors back home were still present. It was following him everywhere, just as his target was doing. 

"Yeah," the word is buried in a deep exhale, almost as if he hopes she won't hear him. "Yeah, it is." his tongue is poking through his cheek as he tries to push away the anger and frustration. This was going to follow him everywhere. Nowhere was safe to run to anymore. 

"Jimmy, you listen to me and you listen to me good." the woman grabs his full attention as she takes her sunglasses off of her face. "If you love Joyce, you best promise me that you're gonna keep her alive and well. She may not be blood to me, but she's sure as hell family. So are her kids. You've kept her safe this long, don't you dare quit now." 

Her eyes are glaring into him and he feels a surprising sense of relief when he was only expecting more pressure. Joyce wasn't alone anymore. She had a support system waiting for her that didn't just revolve around himself and the kids. 

"I promise."

 

* * *

 

 

_It was May 15th, the day he had been dreading for weeks. The day that had tear-filled nights in the dark had led up to. Moving day._

_The U-Haul was in Joyce's driveway when he pulled up, the boys loading boxes into the back hatch. He had spent the entire night previous debating on whether or not it was a good idea to say goodbye. He couldn't trust himself not to break down the moment her car would pull away. In fact, he was more or less counting on it._

_Soon, Joyce would be gone and he would be the one occupying her house. He couldn't let it fall into a random person's hands. That house had seen too much to be an open door for just anyone. Deep down, he knew that wasn't the only reason he had purchased her little rancher._

_He was reserving it. He didn't have his hopes up that she would come back, but the faint voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the 'what_ _if's_ _and 'just in case'. He hated signing the papers, knowing that it would seal the deal between her staying and her leaving._

_His hands grip the steering wheel a little harder than usual, and Elle could sense it because her hand gently came up and rested on his shoulder. In entire honesty, he had forgotten that she was even in the passenger seat._

_Saying goodbye. That was what they had come to do. Hopefully, it wasn't a goodbye as much as it was just a 'see you later.' Except, the odds of that being the truth weren't all that much in his favor._

_"You okay, kid?" he speaks with a gruff voice, trying to hide his own heartache in his words. Elle would be losing a friend today too._

_"I guess so," she replies in an almost identical tone. Quiet and sad, laced with the lies that whatever she was feeling didn't need to be spoken about. She was hurting just as much as he was. Joyce had become like a mother to her over the time they had spent together. Always losing something important to her._

_"Alright, let's get this over with." the two of them slide out each side of the Blazer, walking towards the mess of boxes and totes that were left to be loaded into the moving truck._

_"Make sure all of the boxes with the glassware don't get damaged," Joyce tells the boys as she settles a heavy tote into the U-Haul. She turned around as soon as she heard the footsteps behind her, brushing her dust-covered hands down the front of her jeans._

_"Why don't you go talk to Will for a little bit," he says to Elle, watching her run off into the house with the boys. Joyce isn't looking him in the eyes, but it's okay because he's almost certain he couldn't look into hers either. "Hey,"_

_"Hey," she answers softly, anxiously stuffing her hands into her pockets. She's terrified to look at him, to see the demeanor on his face and know that it's because of her actions. It'll break her heart more than it's already broken. "I'm glad you — I'm uh, I'm glad you stopped by."_

_"Yeah, of course," he mutters, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up. "You need any help moving boxes?" he says after a long exhale of blue-hued smoke that pours from his lips._

_"I think we've got most of it... thanks," without looking up at him, she takes the cigarette that he offers to her. Like a tidal wave, she's hit with the reminder that this will be the last cigarette she shares with him for a very long time — if not forever. All of it, all of it started just like this. With a bristle of skin against skin, sharing a stupid moment together._

_His heart speeds up a little quicker, a shot of nervous adrenaline running through his stomach. He was losing everything now. Dissolving right in front of his eyes as it always does. The moment he becomes adjusted to a change, to something better in his life, it goes up in flames. As soon as Elle understood his fear, she had been more cautious with her actions. But Joyce didn't understand the extent of just how deeply her moving away would affect him._

_"_ _Heres_ _, uh," she digs around in her back pocket, pulling out a jingling set of keys. "I guess these are yours now. Can't tell you how many times I've lost those," she chuckles softly before her face returns to her default look of sadness. The weight of the keys dropping into his palm is unbearable; he wants to throw them into the woods and never remember this moment ever again._

_"Please don't do this," he breathes._

_"Hop,"_

_"I know," he protests. "I know. I just..." his head shakes with a heavy exhale. The tears are beginning to well in his eyes and all he can think about is running away. He wants to cry until he gets his way like a child in a supermarket. "I'm gonna miss you. So fucking much."_

_"Come with me!" she pleads for the millionth time. She had practically been begging him to move alongside her since the moment she had decided to leave Hawkins._

_"I can't." his voice cracks._

_She pauses, fighting off tears of her own. The words burn against her vocal cords and she debates on even saying them._ _"You're gonna die here, Jim." The anguish in her voice rips the breath from his lungs. But it isn't the fact that she's said the words that hurt him, it's how she believes it to be true. How she's begging him to save his own life when he's refusing to see the truth for what it is._

 

* * *

 

 

His eyes shoot open out of a dead sleep, his skin covered in sticky perspiration as the memory in his dreams begins to fade. It isn't until he hears the phone ringing that he realizes that was what had woken him up. Joyce was still sound asleep next to him, unaware of anything that was happening in her surroundings. 

He quickly throws the blankets off of his body and jogs down the stairs, fearful that the ringing of the landline will wake up Elle and Will. He feels a slight pinch of fear in his stomach when he realizes that it's midnight and nobody ever calls at midnight. 

He manages to get the phone on the fourth ring, pressing it to his ear as he leans his tired body against the wall. "Hello?" he answers, his voice still hazy from the deep sleep that had enveloped him. 

"Chief?" a familiar voice on the other end of the line asks. His heart starts racing, instantly waking him up.  _Hang up, hang up, hang up._ The mantra repeats in his head. His gut instinct had been right because this number was only given to his detectives under emergency circumstances.

"Powell," he croaks, his heart beginning to move faster and faster beneath his ribcage. He squeezes his eyes shut, listening to Calvin's heavy breathing coming through the phone. The lump in his throat is growing bigger and there's enough adrenaline running through him to replace all of the blood in his body. 

"Chief," Powell wheezes. "He's here. I don't know how he got here or why he's here, but he's asking for you. He's got a hostage and he's taken up the lab. ESU is on their way but he said he's not talking to anybody but you."

Hopper stops, completely and utterly stops. His breathing has ceased and his heart must've quit on him because he can't feel anything. He can't say anything. 

Motionless. 

Numb.

And so,  _so_  wrong. 

"Chief. It's him. It's Brenner."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll tell you right now, chapter eighteen is already finished and you guys are gonna shit your pants k thx bye


	18. Chapter Eighteen - Dear Joyce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopper faces his final rundown with Brenner, Joyce discovers something that leaves her conflicted
> 
> Song of the Chapter - So Close by Ólafur Arnalds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy FUCK. two chapters left, I've already finished chapter nineteen and I'm so fucking heartbroken that this is almost over. keep one thing in mind, I PROMISE a very happy ending. Promise promise promise.

The phone receiver dangles on the chord, barely scraping the floor as it falls. His hand is still frozen in the air, Powell's voice faintly calling for him from the other line.  _Chief, Chief are you there?_

No.

His eyes close.

No, he wasn't there. His soul feels as if it had slipped right out of his body the moment the words hit his ears. He can feel the bile rising up in his stomach as he tries to remind himself to breathe. Just breathe, in and out. 

If he could melt away into the floorboards right now, he would. 

With the small amount of control he still has over his body, he leans down to pick up the fallen phone receiver. "I'm here," he gulps, his voice dropping lower than he had ever heard it. "Tell- tell me what happened." 

"He called the station while we were working on some paperwork. He went to Becky Ives' house looking for Elle, but he got mad when she wasn't there so he took Becky instead. He called us, demanding that you get here as quickly as possible or he's gonna take Becky out. Chief, he's lost it. He's frantic. ESU is on the way and so is SWAT, but it'll be pointless if you're not here."

"I uh—" Fuck, why can't he think! He was still processing the information, trying to take in each word as they came. "Alright, listen carefully. Do NOT let SWAT or ESU storm the building, you fucking got that? I'll call Rhodes and see if he can airlift me out of here. Get a hostage team set up down there, phone lines, blueprints, the whole fucking nine, alright? I'll be there as soon as possible. This is going to go as smooth as possible, and if it doesn't, you're on the chopping block."

He slams the phone down on the hook, forcing himself to keep breathing as he figures out a plan. Rhodes, he's gotta call Rhodes. 

The phone is pressed back against his ear as he dials the number. Pick up, pick up, please pick the fucking phone up. "Hello?" he shouts as soon as the line clicks. "Rhodes, it's me. Brenner, he's in Hawkins, he's taken up the lab. I need you to pull some strings and get me down there as quickly as possible. Can you do that?" 

He can hear Rhodes give a frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. "What the fuck." he draws out the last syllable in anger. "Fucking Christ. Why'd the bastard have to pick the middle of the night? "

"Can you help me or not?" Hopper grits out, smacking his hand against the wall. 

"Alright. Yes. Listen," Hopper can hear him on the other end, scrambling around the paperwork on his desk. "I'll get a set of wings waiting for you down at the 09J. They'll lift you over to Indianapolis, we'll have a chopper waiting there for you when you get there, they'll lift you over to Hawkins and you should be there by the time the sun comes up. I'll call the Indy FBI when I'm done, let 'em know what's happening." 

"Thank you," he exhales in temporary relief. "SWAT and ESU are en route there now, but Powell says Brenner is won't talk to anybody but me. He's got a hostage with him, it's the kid's aunt. Do NOT let the Indy FBI storm the building alright? He will kill her without a second thought."

"Well get the hell off the phone and go! You don't have all night, Hopper!" Rhodes bites, slamming the phone down from the other end of the line. 

Hopper nervously runs his hands through his hair, trying to figure out what the hell he's going to do. His brain is scrambled and he isn't used to this kind of pressure. He knew this pressure back in New York, the ticking clock and the eight thousand decisions he would have to make while everybody was watching.

He would win this. If it were the last thing he was to ever do, he would fucking win this battle that he had waited three years for. 

Looking around the kitchen, he scrambles to find a notepad and a pen. It would break her heart, but he couldn't tell Joyce to her face what was happening. She would refuse to let him leave and it would only crush her even more when she realized that he would have to go. Ripping a pen out of a kitchen drawer, his hand trembled as he scribbled down his note on the piece of paper. 

Once he finished, dropped the pen on the counter and sped up the stairs as quickly as he could. He hadn't packed his uniform, but he quickly changed out of the pajamas he was wearing and into something more appropriate. His limbs continued to shake with the aftershocks of adrenaline. As fast as he could, he threw a button up shirt and pants on, shoving his pajamas into the luggage that was still in his guest bedroom. 

His mindset was beginning to shift away from fear and anxiety as it turned into anger. Pure and rampant enragement coursing through every vein in his body. He was tired of running, chasing away the monsters day after day. He was done. He was going to put this bullshit to bed.

He had already planned every move he would make when the time came, but this wouldn't work the way he had imagined. The bastard, he was playing games left and right to ensure Hopper didn't have a single footstep planned the right way. 

From the bottom of his luggage, he pulls out his revolver, loading the bullets into it carefully. A quick snap of his wrist the chamber locked into place. His eyes felt hollow, staring blankly at the window in front of him.

The motherfucker would bleed the same amount of blood that he had forced others to shed. 

Carefully and quietly, he tiptoed back to Joyce's room. She was sound asleep, as if nothing would ever wake her again. Hovering over her sleeping body, all he could do was stare at her. She would stay asleep, unaware of anything wrong in the world. Her auburn hair splayed across the white pillowcase, staying just as still as she was lying. 

He would stare at her all day if he could. Memorizing every detail about her just in case it was the last time he would ever be able to see her. This whole time, he had expected her to be the one that would inevitably fall to the ground lifelessly. Plans had changed, maybe this time it would be him instead.

Without waking her, he sets the scribbled note down on the empty pillow next to her. 

Taking the risk, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. Her scent is still intoxicating, and he can only pray it sticks in his nose before the smell of blood will overcome the air. 

She was safe here. The threat was no longer looming over her, but instead, it was his turn. 

The feeling of nausea and anxiety overpowered him, reminding him that he needed to be elsewhere. One last glance at her before he shuts her bedroom door and grabs his keys. 

The headlights of his truck shone too brightly into the dark night, illuminating the view in front of him as the engine turned over and the vehicle came to life. Through the headlights, he could faintly see the ocean in front of him. Waves cracking and crashing against the shore. His lips stay tightly shut as he stares outward for a moment. Just a moment. A fleeting second to say his goodbyes to the water. 

The roads were dark and quiet, not a soul other than himself out in the open. As he reached the entrance to the tarmac, he watched as the hangar opened and a jet slowly backed out from within the building. 

It felt like a dream, or maybe more like a nightmare. Except, he wasn't able to wake himself up. The sky remained dark and the wind continued to blow through the Spanish moss. This wasn't a dream, no matter how badly he wished it was. As he pulled into the parking lot, he lit up one last cigarette before boarding the small jet. 

With nothing but keys and the clothes on his back, he silently climbed up the stairs that the pilot had unhinged from the side of the aircraft. It would be a long flight, but with the help of the FBI, he just might be able to get there before any casualties. 

 

* * *

 

 

The flights were long and treacherous, but the FBI had made good on their part. As soon as he landed in Indianapolis, the helicopter was waiting for him with several agents as well. The sun would soon begin to rise, and he knew Joyce would be awake soon; if she wasn't already. 

He felt like a soldier being sent off to war. Everybody around him simply spectating, knowing that nobody but him could end this the way it needed to be ended. None of them would ever take the chance. Only he knew more about Martin Brenner than Brenner knew about himself — or so the thought.

He tried to remain dignified, playing his vulnerabilities close to the vest. Around Joyce, he did what he could to be his true and honest self. A man who cracks sometimes; shows emotions and lets down his guard. That was not an option while surrounded by pitch black suits with identification cards that held the big blue letters, 'FBI'. 

He would need to set his jaw, prove to these people that he could still get the job done. Fear was an unwelcomed emotion in these cases, proving only to be a mistake waiting to be made. If he felt fear, his trigger finger may slip or he may say the wrong thing at the wrong time. He had to stand tall, handle this like a warrior.

But he was scared. On the inside, he was fucking terrified. The only good thing was that anger was the best way he diluted the fear. When anger pumped through his system with its own beating heart, his trepidation faded. Yet, he was still only human. The panic would still exist, only it would be quiet. It would stay hidden deep within where only he could feel it. 

As the chopper landed to the nearest helipad towards Hawkins, a black town car was waiting for him. It was happening. One part of him sighed with relief that it would soon be over, but the other part of him felt only anger that it had begun in the first place. 

Through the mixed emotions that ran through his blood, only one stood clear as day. Entering Hawkins no longer felt the way it used to. It felt foreign, as if he knew nothing of that the soil had once felt like. Hawkins didn't feel like home anymore. 

Through the dark and tinted windows, the street lamps reflected off the pattern of trees. He knew this place, he had grown up here, he had come here to break. He knew each endless line of trees, yet it was no longer familiar to him. This was simply just another town after everything he had witnessed. 

Deep down, he had felt this way for a long time. Ever since Joyce had left. Only leaving for several weeks had amplified the feeling as soon as he had returned. Hawkins hadn't felt like home in a long time — especially without her. 

The truth began to reveal itself to him as the town car sped through the rainy roads. He had let this crumble him. Break him into small little pieces, like glass shattering on the floor. He had let Brenner and all of his evil practices take his life while he still continued to breathe. A sudden duty of care to protect his town while also keeping himself in danger. 

What had it cost him?

It had cost him everything. 

A normal life, a normal job, a normal family. Brenner's grasp had reached everybody who knew even a shred of what he had done. There was no halfway point. If you knew, you knew everything; and as he learned, his life had started to decay. Everything around him, every opportunity and every minute that he continued to exist for, just decaying. The evil doesn't go away, it grows, It adapts, and then it destroys everything in its path.

Maybe that was why he was hellbent on ending the pattern right here, right now. Because he had started to see that he was making too many sacrifices just as Joyce had been doing. Today would be the end of the sacrifices, the end of the terror, and the end of the nightmare... hopefully. 

"We're here," the agent behind the wheel broke the silence in a deep baritone voice. Haunting and ominous. The dimness of the sky reflected off of Hopper's dark eyes, flashing a mirrored image of his blue eyes against the window. 

Handfuls of vehicles were lined up and down the road, flashing red and blue lights while they sat and waited. Troopers, SWAT, ESU, FBI, ambulances, firetrucks, they had all been waiting. As soon as his door opened, he could feel the countless eyes on him. Agents and officers standing under the tents as the hostage team set up their control station. This wasn't his first rodeo, but by the grace of God, it might just be his last. 

A bulletproof vest was shoved in his direction, people swarming around him to gear him up. "Any word from inside?" he asks, hoping the tremble in his voice isn't apparent. The buckles and clasps of the vest secure around his torso, weighing him down with each moment passing. 

"He's in the east wing of the building. Interrogation room one. Hostage is still alive, but he isn't saying much without you there." the captain of the negotiation team says, helping the other members secure his gear onto his body. "We've cut most of the electric and the A/C, but we're feeding the security cams out here to us, thanks to the FBI's on-loan tech. We'll send you in with a radio for updates. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Hopper replies, strapping his revolver into its designated holster. "Nobody enters unless I give the go-ahead, you got that? I'm gonna get Becky out of there, but make sure these dipshits let me do my job." 

Just as he turns to walk up the pathway into the building, the ringing phone pulls his attention towards the control center. He gulps as he watches Powell pick up the phone, his eyes shooting straight for Hopper. 

"Chief, it's for you."

 

* * *

 

 

Joyce stirred in her sleep, partially aware that the sun wasn't shining through her windows just yet. She leans over to cuddle up to Hopper, but feels only the cold and empty side of her bed. Her eyes shoot open, looking around the room frantically as she sits up in bed. With her eyes squinted, she picks up the crumpled piece of paper that sits on his pillow.

 

_Dear Joyce,_

_I'm sorry I wasn't able to say goodbye, but this is only temporary, I promise. I received an emergency call that there was a hostage being held at the old Hawkins Lab and the FBI airlifted me out of the 09J around midnight. I didn't want to wake you up and worry you, and I'm so sorry. I need to ask you a favor. Elle is still asleep in Will's room, please keep an eye on her while I'm gone. It wasn't safe for me to take her with me. I wish I could've warned you, but I wanted to keep you guys safe. There's a number at the bottom of the page, as soon as you wake up, call that number. It's the ESU hostage team's number. Talk to Callahan or Powell, but NOBODY ELSE! Everything is going to be okay, I promise. Stay calm. I'll get in touch with you as soon as I can..._

_No matter what happens, just remember one thing please..._

_I didn't mean to hurt you._ _I love you._

_ I love you so much. _

_I'll be back as soon as possible. I promise._

_—  Hop_

_(463-555-0143)_

 

Her heart drops into her stomach, instantly causing her to become severely nauseous. Everything he hadn't said in his letter still said it all. He wouldn't have left if it weren't as serious as her mind told her it was. He would've let the state police handle it. He wouldn't have left Elle. Whatever was happening, he was diving in headfirst with a death wish. 

Throwing herself out of bed, she speeds down the stairs as quickly as she can. The crumpled note sticks to her shaking hand while she dials the number. As the line trills, she can feel her heart violently thumping all the way in her ears. "Pick up, pick up, pick up."

"Hello?" She recognizes the voice on the other line, it's Powell. She can hear the caution in his voice even with only one word spoken. 

"Powell, it's Joyce. Please tell me Hopper hasn't gone in yet!" she practically yells into the receiver, clutching it with both hands. "Let me talk to him,  _please!"_

_"Chief, it's for you."_

Joyce's heart speeds up to an alarming rate as she listens to the phone being handed over to Hopper. Tears begin to sting in her eyes as she squeezes them shut. 

"Joyce?" he asks, his breathing sounding unbearably heavy. Her lower lip quivers as she hears his voice, somehow both feeling relieved and absolutely petrified. 

"Hopper. Hop, it's me." she cries into the phone. "Hopper, please don't do this. Ju—Just tell me what's going on, please." the sound of her begging cries break his heart, forcing him to take a deep inhale and settle himself down. 

"Joyce, it's gonna be okay. Just take a deep breath, alright? Listen to me. I need to go in soon, but I'm gonna be safe, I promise." his authoritative tone drops despite the hundreds of people standing around watching him. 

"It's him, isn't it?" she sobs, her breath coming out with hysterical force. "It's him. You wouldn't have left if it wasn't. God, yo-you wouldn't have left me or Elle if it wasn't him. Hopper, tell me it isn't him."

He bites down on his bottom lip, forcing his eyes upwards to avoid a spill of tears. After a long pause, his head gently nods against the phone receiver. "Yeah, yeah it's him. He's got Becky. But uh— this is it, Joyce. He's here, he's surrounded, and we're gonna apprehend him. Listen to me, sweetheart." his chest is rising and falling heavily, feeling the words beginning to ball up in his throat. "It's gonna be okay. We're all gonna be just fine and this nightmare will be over before you know it. Just—" His voice falters and he wonders if he should say what he needs to say.

"Just what? Hop?" she asks frantically. 

"Just..." his eyes squeeze shut and his hand comes to his mouth. "Just take care, okay? No matter what happens, it's gonna be okay."

"No!" she shouts as her eyes shoot wide open, "No! You're saying goodbye, that's... no! You're not saying goodbye to me right now, James Hopper you are not saying goodbye to me, don't you dare!" 

"Joyce," he pleads. 

"Please don't do this, send someone else in, please. Please don't do this! I love you, Hop." her voice sounds so small through her sobbing and he can hear her gasping for air. 

"I love you too, baby." he gulps after he pauses to listen. Looking from the corner of his eye, he sees the ESU chief motioning to end the call. "Look, I've gotta go, okay? I'm gonna call you as soon as I can. Keep Elle safe, I love you!" his voice breaks through the static on the line which falls dead within seconds. 

The phone falls away from her hands as she slides down against the wall. It feels as if all of the blood has drained from her body the moment she hits the cold wooden floors. "No," she whimpers.  _"No, no, no."_

 

* * *

 

 

The corridors of the lab are eerily dark and silent. A few flashing lights catch his attention, but the entire building feels frozen in time. It hasn't changed much, most of the dents and damages have remained since the attack. 

His gun is strapped at his hip and the weight of the kevlar vest keeps him grounded. The sound of his own heavy breathing filled his ears, his heart pounding away in his chest. Nearly startling him, the static on the radio chirped.

"You're almost there, Chief. Hang a left at the next hallway." the voice of the hostage captain crackles through the speaker of the radio. 

The sight of the interior building makes him sick to his stomach. He had seen some of it during Will's visits, and other times Elle had told him about the greyish-teal tiles that ran along the walls. Even through the year that the building had spent in abandonment, the atmosphere of evil still remained.

As soon as he turned down the hallway, he saw the sign labeling each interrogation room. "Approaching the subject," he muttered into the radio. "Copy that." As soon as the static went silent, he pressed his ear to the door. 

"Brenner," he called out, "It's me, it's Chief Hopper. You wanna let me in so we can talk?" as soon as he pauses, he can feel his heartbeat beginning to pick up once again. Slowly, the lock on the door becomes undone and a sliver of the room is visible. 

Through the crack in the door, he sees the infamous white hair that has haunted his dreams for three years. The man is sweating profusely, a bug-eyed and frantic expression taking over his face. No longer is he the calm and collected man who pretends to be in charge, the god-complex is dissolving. 

"I need you to let me in," Hopper nods softly, holding back the urge to reach in and choke the life out of the bastard. 

"Drop your weapon," Brenner growls, watching Hopper with his eyes blown open. Hopper sighs nervously, slowly removing the revolver from the holster and flipping the chamber outward. With his thumb pressed over one of the six chamber cylinders, five bullets clattered to the ground and he prays that Brenner doesn't count them. 

"Give me the gun," Brenner stares him down with dark and hooded eyes. 

"No. You'll get your fingerprints on it," he says cautiously. "You don't wanna do that,  _right?"_

The look in Hopper's eyes is telling, almost as if he's trying to help Brenner out of this situation. Rule number one of hostage negotiations; don't piss off the captor. He can tell from Brenner's precarious state of mind that he might just fall for Hopper's act. 

Slowly, Brenner opens the door and allows him in. His eyes shoot over to Becky who's curled up in the corner with rope around her wrists and duct tape over her mouth. "You okay?" Hopper asks carefully. The woman nods slowly, but he can see the terror in her eyes. 

"Alright, you've got me here now. That's what you wanted, right?" he asks, turning to see Brenner wiping away his sweat with the hand that holds his gun. "Why don't we let Becky go?"

"No!" Brenner hisses. "Not yet. I haven't gotten what I've come here for." his lips turn upward into a maniacal smile and every drop of blood in Jim's body suddenly feels freezing cold and every hair on his body stands up. 

"What did you come here for?" Hopper asks, trying to slow the thrumming of his heart under his ribs. It was pounding too hard, overlapping every sound that hit his eardrums with a forceful whooshing noise. 

Brenner sniffs, wiping his hand against his face again. "I went to go find my Eleven. My dear, dear Eleven. But she wasn't there." his face goes dark and empty, like watching someone become possessed. The silence hangs between them before being overruled by an uproarious yell. "I thought she was with her!" the gun in his hand points to Becky, and he watches the woman as she flinches. 

"Becky doesn't know where Jane is," Hopper states simply yet slowly. 

"And how would _you_  know that?" Brenner laughs caustically, leaning his body against the steel table that was screwed down into the middle of the floor. 

Hopper gulps, trying to choose his words carefully. "Because I know where she is... and I made sure that Becky didn't know because I knew this would happen." 

Brenner freezes, seethingly grinding his teeth together. Hopper watches him closely, seeing almost an entirely different man that he recognized. Physically, the was Brenner; but mentally he was completely different. Manic and unhinged. Nervous and angry. So, so angry. 

"Let Becky go. She doesn't need to be here. You've got a cop with you now, you know what that means?" he takes a step closer towards the man. "It means that you don't need her now. Those men and women out there want Becky safe, but they'll take you more seriously if you have me with you instead." 

Brenner stares at him for a moment with pitch black eyes, unfazed and unblinking. Hopper's pulse speeds up as he stands nose to nose with the man he's spent the last three years looking for. Fighting to find. Tooth and nail, every single little detail he could possibly get. Just like that, it was all in front of him. 

"She can leave. You're staying here." Brenner whispers, his voice leaking with lethality.

Rapidly, he spins on his feet towards Becky. "Get the hell out of here," Within a quick movement, she's managed to get on her feet and dodge for the door. Quickly, he brings the radio to his lips. "Hostage is on her way out, do not approach the building. I repeat, the hostage is coming your way, do not approach the building." 

Hopper nods at the man slowly, trying to catch his breath. "Good. Good, now it's just you and me. We'll talk this out man to man."

 

* * *

 

 

A disgusting retching noise emits from the downstairs bathroom, waking the sleeping kids in the next room over. Joyce closes her eyes as she flushes the toilet, resting her head on the lid. "Mom?" the name grabs her attention and as she looks up, she sees Will and Elle standing in the doorway. 

"Mom, what happened?" Will asks nervously, fidgeting with his hands as Elle stares down at her. 

Her eyes close shut as her brows knit together, exhaling a deep breath before she has to tell them the truth. "Hopper, he — he uh..." she shakes her head, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. "Something happened back in Hawkins. He had to leave for a little while."

Elle's eyes go wide as Joyce starts to push herself up off of the floor. "Bad?" Elle asks, reaching to cling to Will's shoulder to absorb the shock from whatever Joyce will say next. "Is it the bad men?"

Joyce's façade begins to drop as a single tear falls from her cheek. She always tries to be strong for the kids, but seeing the fear in their eyes pushed her over the edge. She couldn't hide her own anxiety and worry. "Yeah. Yes, sweetheart, it was the bad men. But he's okay. He's tough, he's gonna take care of it." she whispers as Elle runs to wrap her arms around Joyce. 

As Elle's tears stain Joyce's shirt, the woman looks over at Will to see the horror that was overcoming him. She sees the way his lip quivers as if he's reliving everything he had survived in the past three years. She reaches her other arm out as he runs towards her to hug her alongside Elle.

"It's gonna be okay," Joyce whispers, clinging to them just as hard as they cling to her. "Hopper is strong, and he wants to make sure this is the last time anything bad happens. Alright? I think we all know that without him, this wouldn't get done properly." 

"It's Papa, isn't it?" Elle cries harder through her words. resting her head against Joyce's shoulder. Joyce guides the three of them towards the living room, helping them settle down onto the couch.

She nods at Elle's question, her own tears beginning to renew. Kneeling down in front of the kids, she rests her hand on Elle's knee. "Your dad promised me that he's gonna take Papa away to a place where bad people go so they can't hurt anybody anymore. He's gonna do everything it takes to keep us all safe." 

"I'm scared," Elle whimpers. "I wanna see him."

"I know, sweetie. Me too. But he's gonna be back really soon. Maybe even tomorrow. We just have to get through today, okay? I've got a phone number I can call to talk to the people who are helping him, so I'm gonna call back in a little bit and get an update. But if anything bad happens, they'll call us." 

"Wait a second," Will speaks slowly as if he's hit with sudden realization. He turns to look at Elle. "The Void. You can see him through the Void!" 

Will looks frantically at Elle who turns to look back at Joyce. "I'll go get a blindfold. Will, turn the TV on to channel three. That's the one with the static." Joyce calls out as she runs up the stairs. She races into her room, rifling through her drawers. With no luck of finding anything, she runs into Hopper's guest bedroom.

"What the hell?" she whispers softly as she freezes. His luggage was still sitting on the bed, and a manila folder was peeking out from underneath the baggage. Pulling the file out, she read the large words  _'CLASSIFIED'_  stamped in red ink. Flipping over the cover, she picks through several sheets of paperwork until she comes across the map tucked inside.

Her fingers traced along the marked lines of the map. 

_Owensville, Richmond Heights, Huntsville, Seminole, Brinkley, Jackson, Starkville, Decatur, Anniston, Alexander City, Auburn._

Auburn, Alabama. November 2nd.

297 miles away from where she was standing. Her jaw drops when she sees it. Hopper had arrived barely two weeks after that. 

He knew. He knew the entire fucking time. 

Her mind goes completely blank, unable to decide which emotion to feel. To be angry that he hadn't told her. To be thankful that he had made the trip out just in case. To be heartbroken that he lied to her. 

She flips through more pages, coming across an official FBI statement document.

_'Brunswick Federal Bureau of Investigation — Special Agent Frank Rhodes alongside Hawkins Police Department Chief placed the BYERS family under a protection plan, marking the threat over them as a CHARLIE level on SEPTEMBER 1ST when SUBJECT continued to move closer to their location. SUBJECT was reported as seen in Owensville, Indiana, Richmond Heights, Missouri, Huntsville, Arkansas, Seminole, Oklahoma, Brinkley, Arkansas, Jackson, Tennesee, Starkville Mississippi, Decatur, Alabama, Anniston, Alabama, Alexander City, Alabama, and Auburn, Alabama.'_

_'WITNESSES remained at CHARLIE level until NOVEMBER 29TH when the threat's appearances reduced significantly. The threat over the WITNESSES was then brought down to BRAVO level, placing two agents in a nearby safehouse as well as two agents working the tollbooths onto the island for precautionary measures. The Bureau decided against placing the BYERS family into WITSEC under the reasoning that the threat level over them was not significant to qualify as a DELTA level.'_

_'The Bureau maintained the search for Doctor Martin Brenner alongside Chief Jim Hopper at the beginning of his disappearance, NOVEMBER 12TH, 1983. Promptly after Will Byers was located alive, and the Hawkins National Laboratory FBI base was shut down by FBI Director William H. Webster and further confiscated by the state of Indiana. Doctor Martin Brenner was suspended and his acting position for the Federal Bureau of Investigation was further terminated. Soon after his disappearance, he was labeled as a threat to national security.'_

Joyce stares down at the file, her jaw falling slack. "Oh my god."

 

* * *

 

 

"So what was your plan?" Hopper asks, taking a deep breath as he stares down at the steel table. It feels like its been hours, waiting. Waiting for nothing in particular. He knows that he's stubborn, but he knows Brenner is too. "Were you gonna take the kid, and what? Run more experiments on her?"

"You don't understand. None of you do!" Brenner retorts before he slams down his fists on the table, staring Hopper down from his nose. "What I have done is incredible. I've changed the course of humanity as it is. Me. I've done the impossible. Something that was once only dreamt of."

"Yeah? What about Terry Ives?" Hopper bites back, starting to stand out of his seat. "Y'know... I lost a child. I know that pain, watching something you love so much be ripped away from you, right in front of your eyes. I can't help but sympathize with any parent who loses their child in any way shape or form. Then there's you, the scum of the earth trash who forces parents to go through that grief. Every day, parents lose their children and there isn't much anybody can do, but you are one of those reasons why parents suffer. You. Like Terry, who watched as you stole her child and tried to convince her that her daughter had died. Or Joyce, whose son you allowed to rot away in that hell hole for an entire week!" 

He stops when his voice rises past the point of return. His eyes are blazing down at Brenner, his breath leaving in hot puffs from his mouth. "Its people like you who make me so sick to my stomach, to the point where I can't even fathom it feeling any worse. You. You disgusting, vile, mistake of a human being."

Brenner is glaring at him with the look he gives when he doesn't get his way. Almost like a child who's about to throw a temper tantrum. 

"I mean, think about Joyce! What was the point? You follow her all the way down to the south just to turn around? All for what? To terrorize her even more? To freak her out?" he's yelling again and even his own tone scares him. A sense of anger that he hasn't felt in a long time, barrelling out of him before he can stop himself. "You thought you eluded the search. But we got calls from people all over the country, watching you, sighting you, reporting you." he spits the words out into Brenner's face, gritting them out through his teeth. 

But Brenner just laughs. A bone-chilling, blood-curdling laugh.

"Nobody saw me. You're not as smart as you think you are, Chief Hopper. You see, I made those calls. My associates made those calls. Trickling my way down the country towards the one person you'd do everything to protect. I needed you out of Indiana, and you were so quick to leave." He laughs again, sending fire through Hopper's skin. "You see, I never actually left Indiana to begin with. But, I will admit my fault here was that I didn't realize you had my dearest Eleven go with you. That sure put a little hitch in my plans. I thought for sure that she would be back with the Ives."

"Yeah?" Hopper tries to hide the dawn of realization in his face, to pretend he already knew everything that he was just told. "Well, you know what? I'm tired of this. I'm sick and fucking tired of your lunatic games! I'm tired of you using Jane as your pawn. I'm tired of you destroying Joyce's life. What is it about the Byers family that you can't stay away from? Why do you have to constantly pester them and leave them in fear?"

"I guess curiosity killed the cat," Brenner replies in a malicious tone. 

Hopper's voice roars as he speaks, the metal chair kicking out from underneath of him. "It wasn't curiosity that killed the cat, the truth did! Humans using their knowledge to play God and somehow remaining blissfully ignorant to the consequences. You are ruining lives! What don't you get about that?"

Moving closer and closer to Brenner, he can feel the point of the man's gun pressing into his stomach. "I am so tired of your slimy ass screwing with my family. Everything you've done. Not just to Jane, but to Joyce too. That crown of thorns and sacrifice that poor woman wears is getting heavy, and it's cutting into her skin. She's tired of bleeding so others won't have to. She's paid the price so others wouldn't. Instead of righting all of your wrongs and learning your lesson, you just keep going and expect her to pick up the tab!"

"And what do you think Mrs. Byers would say to me right now if she were standing here." Brenner smiles. "You think she'd kill me?"

"You know what I love about her? She's the bigger person. She's always going to give up what she wants the most to retain her dignity and her virtue. But let me tell you something and hear me when I say it.  _I'm not her._  I will not spare you. I will make sure you feel every damn ounce of pain that you deserve. I will not walk away from you to be a better person than I was yesterday. My virtue doesn't mean a goddamn thing to me when you screw with my family."

With each syllable of his speech annunciated, he watches as Brenner grits his teeth in anger.

"Big of you to say that when I'm the one with the gun in my hand."

Hopper gives an incredulous chuckle. 

"Your men are so scared of the enemy finding out what you've done and using it against you, but by continuing what you do, you're creating an enemy in those afflicted. Think about how big that wave is going to be when it crashes down and hits you where it hurts. Yeah, think about it. You think you're safe? Your other little experiment, what's her name, number eight? She's trailing around the country putting your men down like the dirty dogs you are. If I don't take you out, she will. And believe me, she'll do ten times worse damage than I would. So go ahead, shoot me. I'm your ticket out of here and away from the hellion that's tracking your path as we speak."

Hopper laughs as the man stays silent. "Shoot me."

 

* * *

 

 

Elle was huddled around the television, Will sitting right by her and holding her hand to make sure she was alright. The static drained out the silence that had filled the room for hours. 

Joyce bounced her thoughts back and forth, trying to decide whether or not if she was furious with Hopper. She didn't want to be. She knew him well enough to predict his logic behind his actions. Why he hadn't told her that Brenner was on her route. It's almost as if she could hear exactly what Hopper would say in regards to why he kept his secret. 

He didn't want to scare her. He saw her trying to make a new life for herself, he didn't want to ruin that. He kept them under a close eye, jumping in as soon as things got too risky. No matter how angry she was that he lied, she still loved him. That was the bottom line for her. She still loved him no matter how stupid he was. 

"Do you see anything, Elle?" Joyce heard Will ask in a soft voice. 

"A little," she replied, trying to remain inside of her head as best she could. "Every time I try to hear what's happening, I keep getting thrown back to the beach. Lightning and thunder, I can't hear what they're saying. I'll try again."

Joyce can't take it anymore. The waiting games were taking too long and the anxiety only seemed to grow. She made her way back over to the phone, nervously dialing the number that she had called before. 

It rang, and it rang, and it rang. 

"Hello?" Powell answered again. 

"Calvin! It's me, Joyce. Please give me some good news." she pleaded.

"Joyce, we're supposed to keep the line open," he responded, earning a frustrated groan from the woman. 

"I know! I know, I'm sorry. I just need something to tell the kids. Anything. They're worried; we're all worried. It's been hours!" Joyce protested, anxiously chewing her nails as she waited for a response. 

"He got Becky out safely. It's just him and Brenner in there now. I wish I had more to give you, Joyce. I really do but—"

_BANG!_ _BANG!_

"Shots fired. I repeat, shots fired." Joyce hears the words yelled in the background and her heart instantly stops beating. 

Before she can get another word in, the line goes dead.

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Chapter Nineteen - Love, Hopper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While battling for his life, Hopper makes a decision.
> 
> When Joyce realizes what Hopper has been keeping from her, she makes one too.
> 
> Song of the chapter: So Far by Ólafur Arnalds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hOLY GOD ONLY ONE MORE CHAPTER AFTER THIS, THE FUCKING EPILOGUE
> 
> my heart is breaking I don't want this to be over!

Sometimes, death could be beautiful. To watch some fade away from home, leaving a trail of footprints on the Earth behind them. To shed the years with a simple exhale. The hands go weak, the eyes close, the heart stops. Physical death is easy. Mental death is hard. 

Dying on the inside meant letting go. A choice to exhale the last breath in your lungs and allowing yourself to be swept away with it. Letting the warmth envelop your body rather than choosing to be cold. A choice to live or to die. 

Joyce had been faced with this choice, and she had been saved before the decision was made. 

Jim Hopper was not going to make that choice. Although, he was still given the option. 

As the tunnel vision set in, the memories became as clear as crystal. So many beautiful moments running through his slowing mind. It is true what they say, your life does flash before your eyes. But the words people used to describe the experience would never be enough. 

It was as if he could reach his hand out and touch it. Every image covered in a glossy glow, each one more beautiful than the last. He could run his palm over Sara's cheeks one more time. He could feel the tight grip of the hugs Elle would give him. He could feel Will being revived underneath his fingertips as Joyce strapped the oxygen mask to his face. Even in the most heinous place in the world, it all seemed so beautiful. 

But the memories became older, going in reverse as they switched through his subconscious. Visions of his wedding day, watching Diane take careful steps down the aisle. The night he had returned from Vietnam and the pure happiness that came from wrapping his arms around Joyce once again. 

He was floating. Watching every minuscule moment as it fell into place. Puzzle pieces of time, shaping him into what had made him who he was. Each sight seemed to be sucked away in front of his eyes after his mind was finished showing it to him. Hurdling closer and closer to a blinding white light.

But he didn't want to go.

He was warm and the moments he missed the most were with him, but every fiber of his being begged him to stay. To fight. To just fucking breathe. Except, it was growing harder to do so. The seconds ticked away on the clock and with each passing one, the weight became heavier. He became sleepier. And death became sooner. 

It took every ounce of strength to try to recall the last few minutes. He was wearing his vest still, untouched by any ammunition. That's when he realized how the pain was radiating from his thigh instead. A bullet lodged in his femoral artery, forcing it to bleed heavier with each beat of his heart. 

He fought past the incredible images of his favorite memories and tried to focus. He thinks about when he would be staring down at the freckles on Joyce's back, marveling at the beauty of them. Not a single one out of place. Maybe if he took a pen and connected the dots, they would mimic the sky's constellations. He thinks about the way her lips tasted on his and how her skin felt gliding through his palms. He tried to think about Elle, and how she needed him to keep fighting. She had fought hard enough for them, it was his turn now. He thought about Will and how brightly he smiled when his friends had traveled 850 miles to visit him and his mother. 

To think about the reasons he had to live, rather than the reasons why he wanted to die. 

Death would mean reuniting with his daughter. His little girl who had been taken from him too soon. But dying would not bring her back, it would only take him away from everything he still had waiting for him. 

"Daddy!" he can almost hear her voice from the distance, but it's getting harder and harder to decipher her words. He wants to run to her, to swoop her up in his arms and hold her close. But if he had learned anything about Sara in her six years of life it's that she would never want him to give up. She knew him to be strong and courageous. As far as he was concerned, dying would tarnish that reputation that his daughter had known him for. 

She would tell him to be brave, just as he had told her to be after countless nights of painful treatments. Her tired little blue eyes would always peer up at him, nodding solemnly as she decided to just keep trying. 

He had to return the favor. 

After losing her, he wasn't sure if he believed in God anymore. But if by any stroke of luck or chance that there was a God, he could only pray that Sara would want him to keep living. To keep breathing. To fight as hard as he could, just as she had done. 

The choice seemed impossible to make, but he knew which one to make because if he had flipped a coin, he would've prayed that it would tell him to keep going. That was enough of an answer for him. Although it was an impossible one, he knew which choice would be the right one. 

To die and be with his daughter once again, or to live and see his family through the rest of his days. 

The choice was left between selfishness and selflessness. Choosing to die meant choosing to end the pain, but it would only leave more pain for the people who he had left on this Earth. They would grieve so he wouldn't have to anymore. His only goal this entire time was to keep the Byers safe. But what about keeping them happy?

He kept trying to fight off the warmth that was calling to him. To focus on what was happening as he slipped in and out of consciousness. 

Brenner had laughed in his face, he remembered that part. He remembered when the man had spun on his heal and aimed the gun at his leg. He was fast, but Hopper was fast too. As quickly as he could whilst dropping to the floor, he pulled his gun from the holster and clicked the trigger until the single bullet left in the chamber had been expelled.

Then Brenner had been the one who dropped. 

As soon as he saw the life draining out of the hole in Brenner's body, his eyes had closed and the shock began to take over his own wounds. Somewhere along the way through the bright lights, he had felt his body being lifted. Intense pressure was placed at his leg, trying to keep him from bleeding out. Through the fog and the haze, he saw quick flashes of the hallway lights and then the ambulance lights, and then the emergency room lights. 

 _"GSW looks to have nicked the femoral, bullet is still lodged in his left leg. GSC is 4. Respiration is 9. Pulse is 55 and thready. His BP is dropping. We need a unit of O-neg, stat!"_  

The words were flying around the room faster than he could understand any of them. Every voice and sound seemed as if it were coming from a million miles away. The fatigue was becoming harder and harder to fight off, and all he wanted to do was drift away into the sleep that was calling for him. 

The beeping monitor in the distance became more alarmed as he felt himself beginning to slip back into unconsciousness. "Joyce," he mumbled incoherently under his breath before being cut off by the intubation tube. 

_"He's crashing!"_

 

* * *

 

 

With tears rushing from her eyes, Joyce pounded away on Ruth's front door. Elle had bellowed out an excruciating yell from behind her blindfold the exact moment Joyce had heard the gunshots ringing out through the phone call. The girl had practically screamed bloody murder, barely able to get the words out about what she had just seen. 

"Ruth, open up! It's an emergency!"

As soon as the words left her lips, Ruth had swung the door open to see Joyce as well as the two kids sobbing on her doorstep. "Oh my lord, what happened?" the woman asked, her eyes blown wide with worry. 

"I-I need you to watch the kids. It's Ho-hopper. He's been shot, I need to get to Indiana." she cried out hysterically, not even trying to contain herself. Every passing second felt like an eternity, unknowing if Hopper was even alive still. 

"Yeah! Not a problem!" Ruth quickly reacts, bringing Joyce into a tight hug. "Go! Don't worry about us, we'll be just fine!" 

Joyce could cry from the graciousness if she wasn't already crying. "Alright, you guys be good, okay? I promise I will call you as soon as I get there. Everything's gonna be okay." she spoke with a tone that she even she couldn't bring herself to believe was honest enough. But the kids were brave as always, nodding their heads and both giving her a quick hug. "Thank you," she turns to Ruth with the most appreciative look she could conjure up. 

She swiftly ran back to her apartment, shoving various articles of clothing into a small duffle bag as she mentally prepared for her trip. She could get there in six hours if she took the I-95. If God had any mercy left for her, traffic would be light and her gas tank would already be full.

As soon as she settled into the driver's seat of her beat up Pinto, any of the tears she had held back spilled even further. She gasped for air, hyperventilating from the panic that had taken up a permanent residence in her stomach. She had tried so hard to hold it together in front of the kids, ultimately failing. But as soon as her car door shut, her head fell against the steering wheel with an unstoppable flood of tears. 

Finding the file had made her so mad. So unbelievably mad; not just at Hopper. At everything. This entire time, believing she was safe and sound while she was tucked away in a corner away from the world. Only now, she felt guilty for being mad. Two gunshots sounding into the air had ripped all of the anger over his actions away from her. It all melted away, just like that.

But instead, that anger transferred to the man behind the trigger. If he wasn't already dead, she wanted to kill him with her bare hands. To watch everything that man had stolen from her drift away as the light left his eyes. She knew herself to be a non-violent person, but she also knew that when it came to Brenner, she would break every rule she had ever set for herself. 

 

* * *

 

 

It had been a long time since he had been lying in a hospital bed. Two weeks after Sara's death and the anniversary of her diagnosis had approached. They had given him sleeping pills after Diane had forced him to see a psychiatrist. He would spend the nights aimlessly wandering through their house. When it reached the point where he had become manic from sleep deprivation, the doctors had intervened.

But the night of the anniversary was when he had snapped. He was tired, but his mind would continue to run through the depths of every existential crisis he could possibly have. He thought for sure that he had stopped believing in God, but where did that leave Sara? That thought had left him in shreds. 

He had been so tired and he just wanted to sleep. But if God didn't exist, then where was Sara? Was she resting peacefully? If God didn't exist then neither did heaven and he couldn't bear the thought of Sara being anywhere other than in a beautiful afterlife. 

He just wanted to sleep. 

So he had taken a sleeping pill, and when that didn't work, he took three more. Three became six and fuck it, the entire bottle had been emptied. Diane had been the one to find him slumped over in the bathroom, barely breathing. He didn't remember much from that night, but he had woken up in a hospital bed with his mouth tasting too much like charcoal. 

From the corner of the room, he had woken up to his wife glaring at him. At that moment, he wished he hadn't woken up at all. He knew from that point on that things would only go downhill between them, but it had taken a few months for the reality of it to set in. 

Hopefully, this time would be different. It was different. He hadn't chosen to give up this time, but rather to fight. With the hospital linens against his skin, it felt all too eerily similar, but it wasn't. He had looked death in the eye with a close call to prove it, but he didn't back down. 

But the point of his progression wasn't that he had chosen to keep fighting for his life, it was that he  _wanted_  to fight for his life. For all the times he'd spent in a hospital, that hadn't been the case. Not even close, not even a little. 

He had something to live for now. A taste of what life could truly be like, and that had been enough to fend off the black hole. A reason. A will. With Joyce, everything had changed. In a sense, she had started to restore the broken parts of him that he wasn't sure he could ever fix. She had inspired him. God, she could inspire anybody. While he healed her, she was healing him too. 

After all of the hardships that life had dealt him, how did he get so lucky? Maybe it wasn't luck at all. Maybe it was just everything he had been missing from himself. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The drive was long, but the roads had been clear and the traffic was practically non-existent. The tears had continued to flow through the entire grueling six hours of driving, and she cried until crying became as instinctual as breathing. 

Through the entire time on the open road, she had rerun every detail of the day through her head a million times. The silence was too loud, but she couldn't turn on the radio. Eventually, the red taillights of any other car on the road just seemed to blur together beneath her exhausted eyes. 

But she had made it. Thank fucking God she had made it. 

 She had barely shut off the car before she raced out of it and in through the doors of Hawkins General. Ever step she had taken seemed to be in slow motion, running silently through the halls as she found her way up to the ICU. 

Five and a half hours in surgery. That was what Powell had told her when she had found him in the waiting room. Still, a heavy breath of relief came when she realized that he was still alive. His heart was still beating, and he was expected to make a full recovery. Hearing that practically sent her to her knees in gratefulness. 

Hearing Elle crying happy tears on the other end of the line had once again started her own waterworks. The poor kids, sitting and waiting for endless hours until they would hear the news that would either make them or break them. 

But in the moment of holding the phone to her ear, she realized something that she wasn't sure she had seen before. They had become a family within the few weeks they had spent together. Breakfast with the kids, walks on the beach as the four of them, nights filled with movies and games and snacks. The only thing that would've made it any better was if Jonathan had been there too. 

Elle had hung up the phone by telling Joyce that she loved her. Will had told her to give Hopper a hug for him, and that he'd have a brand new drawing waiting for him when they got back. They had become a family. A real, true family. 

As she sat next to Hopper's sleeping body, holding his hand tight in hers, she saw that the man in front of her had become so much more to her than she had ever expected. Beyond a friend, beyond a lover, and further than her mind could even fathom. She truly understood now why some people said that 'love' was an understatement. 

Love couldn't even begin to explain what she felt for him. A cosmic connection. For whatever broken piece there was of herself, he had the missing piece. 

As a young girl, she had always tried to imagine what true love felt like. No matter how hard she could've tried, it would've never equated to this. Not even a little bit. He was not a perfect man. He was rough around the edges. Damaged and riddled with trauma. But for the love of God, he was everything she could ever ask for. 

"Mm... what happened?" he mumbled, causing Joyce to nearly rise from her seat. A deep sigh of relief came from her chest, almost in the sound of a laugh.

"You were shot saving the President," she replied.

"Really?" he asks, his expression overcoming with a dopey anesthesia smile. 

"No." she grits out, trying to hold back the urge to slap him for being so stupid. "I just wanted you to feel happy before I tear into you about what a dumbass move that was." Her voice was monotone, but even in his sleepy state, he could still feel the love coming from her voice. 

"Joyce," he breathes tiredly. "I'm so sorry," 

She watches as his head shakes softly, instantly overcome with the guilt of his decisions. Through the haziness of his vision, he could see the concerned frown on her face.

As she attempts to speak, her voice gives out on her and instead came out in a disappointed exhale. "I know you are." she lifts her hand to run her fingers through his hair. "I know," 

He feels the beginning of the anesthesia wearing off, growing more alert with the passing moments. He doesn't think to question how she got here or where the kids are, all he can focus on is the feeling of her soft skin against his. 

"Why did you choose to come out when you did?" she asks softly, poking her tongue at her cheek. It wasn't much of a question since she already knew the answer. He sees the glimmer of faded tears in her big doe eyes and he already knows that he doesn't have the answer. 

"I found your file in the bag you left behind. The maps and stuff," she states slowly, making sure that her voice doesn't leave behind a strong trail of anger. He sees the corner of her lips flicker as she purses them.

He shakes his head again, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. "He was spotted near you... or at least we thought he was. He was getting closer, he was seen in Alabama. That's when I decided to come out." 

She stares at him silently, trying to decipher her feelings in a way she can understand, except they only feel muddled together. She's mad that he's hurt, she's upset that he lied, but she's so fucking thankful that he's even alive right now.

"He was moving so quickly and erratically, but then it just stopped. As soon as I arrived, he was gone; I thought he was, at least. I went down to the FBI after Thanksgiving to talk to an agent I'd been working with since you've moved. Neither of us could figure it out even though it was right in front of us the whole time. I gave your number to Powell and Callahan for emergencies or in case Brenner was spotted again. They didn't call and I figured maybe we spooked him away."

He stops, seeing her listen to him intently. 

"Then they called in the middle of the night," he heaves out a dry and sardonic chuckle. "And he was already back at the lab and he had Becky and I just... I didn't know how to tell you because I already knew what you would say. I knew you would tell me to stay back and let them handle it. 

He stops, widening his eyes to make sure she understood what he was telling her. 

"I needed to kill this son of a bitch, Joyce. He's been on my radar ever since we got Will back, I wasn't going to let him slip through my fingers again. I didn't mean to hurt you by doing what I did, but I wanted you to be safe. You were building yourself a new life and I didn't want to ruin that by scaring you. The truth is, he never even left Indiana. All of it was a ruse because he thought Becky had Elle and getting me out of the state would make it a home run for him. But he freaked out when he realized that Elle was with us. I was afraid that he'd kill Becky if I didn't go back to Hawkins. I know her and Elle aren't close, but the kid would've lost just another family member. All of it, there was just too much to risk."

She sees the sincerity in his eyes and hears it clearly in his voice. She nods slowly, taking in his words and accepting them as truth. "Okay."

"Okay? You're not mad?" he asks, his brows knitting in surprise.

"No." she replies simply.

"Why aren't you mad?"

"Because you're wrong. I wouldn't have stopped you. I would've jumped in the car with you and just maimed him. I should be mad that you put yourself in danger. I was mad, actually. I was furious." she puffs out a breath that almost sounds like a chuckle. "But you. You and that shining knight's armor that you wear. Isn't that what I always say to you?"

He smiles at the sentiment, watching as a smile grows on her face as well. 

"You make me feel safe, Hop. We could be in the middle of Armageddon and you manage to make me feel that as long as I'm with you, I'm safe. As cliché as that sounds, I don't feel that feeling anywhere other than in your arms." 

Carefully leaning over the bed, she presses her palm to his cheek and kisses him softly. She's kissed him a thousand times in such a short amount spent together, but this kiss feels different on her lips. A promise of safety from here on out. A commitment of love without sacrifices. A better, easier, safer life. Together. 

When she pulls away, he sees her nervously biting her lip as she always does when she has something on her mind. "I uh... I think I'm ready to come home, Hop." she admits softly. 

"It might be a couple of days, I'm kinda confined to this hospital bed." he laughs, her words going right over his head. 

"No," she whispers, chuckling softly before grabbing his hand. "Home. I mean, here... Hawkins." she motions softly with her head, her gaze glancing around the room. 

His eyes blow wide as he attempts to sit up before the sharp pain in his leg stops him. "I can't ask you to do that, Joyce." 

"You didn't ask me..." she freezes, trying to think of the right words. "You killed the monsters under the bed. I mean, I-I know that nothing is promised being in Hawkins, but you... nothing too bad is going to happen with you around. I mean, you practically took down the kingpin of this whole shit show. And I don't want to be away from you any longer." her fingers graze gently across his cheek, her eyes staring down at him with an amount of love he had never seen before. "Not too sure what I'm gonna do about my apartment though,"

"Keep it," he replies simply. 

"Why?"

"I own your old house, Joy. You can move back into it with me and Elle. We could probably even sell it and get something a little bit bigger to accommodate all of us. You can sublet your apartment to some vacationers and we'll go down one weekend out of the month as a little family getaway." he smiles brightly as if he's the smartest man on Earth. 

She pauses to think about it for a moment before nodding her head slowly. "That uh— that might just work." 

"Yeah," he wags his eyebrows. "Well, I tend to be a genius sometimes." 

She lets out a wholesome laugh, probably the first time she's felt truly happy in the last 24 hours. 

One of the first and best lessons he had ever taught Elle was about compromise. Halfway happy. In most cases, compromise wasn't something that dealt an entirely happy deal of cards to both parties. This time was different. His halfway happy was entirely happy. A new life built upon the death of their past. A welcomed change that wouldn't leave either of them missing anything. 

Joyce leans back down, cupping his face with her hands and kissing him once again. He could feel the smile growing on her lips as her nose gently bumping against his. His hand comes up from it's resting position, carefully cradling the back of her head as she continued to show her thankfulness for his survival.

"Hey uh, knock knock." a voice pulled their attention towards the door. As Hopper pulled away from her, he could see Rhodes standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. Joyce bit her bruising lip nervously, looking down to see if Hopper recognized the man.

"Agent Rhodes. Thanks for coming out," he replies carefully, unsure of what to grasp from the man's demeanor. He looked solemn, but Hopper could feel that there was something more than just sympathy for the bullet hole in his leg. 

"I'll uh... I leave you two to talk for a minute." Joyce presses one last kiss to Hopper's forehead before bolting out the door. As soon as she was out of earshot, Rhodes cautiously stepped closer to him.

"Welcome to Hawkins." Hopper offers awkwardly, eyeing him as the agent sits down in the seat next to his bed. 

The silence between the two of them becomes nearly unbearable as Hopper watches Rhodes work through whatever thoughts were going on in his head. "I need to apologize to you," 

"For what?" His brows furrow as he goes rigid from the tone of the agent's voice. 

Rhodes takes a deep breath, shifting his head to look out at the sun setting through the window. "There's a reason I denied your request for putting the Byers into WITSEC. Our techs had a feeling that Brenner never really left Indiana to begin with. Like you pointed out at the office, there were no photos from him being spotted. We traced the calls back and all of them either linked to Brenner himself or the associates he had in the past. We actually knew that long before you came out. For the most part, we knew his plans or what he would be attempting to do. It wasn't rock solid, but putting the Byers into WITSEC would mean you wouldn't know where they were. Brenner would've never tried to get you out of the state, and he wouldn't have shown up when we had expected him to."

Hopper's blood feels as if it's boiling under his skin. Three years with both the Indianapolis and the Brunswick FBI and they had dicked him around. "You used me and my family... as a pawn?" he annunciates each word carefully, staring daggers at the man who was hanging his head. 

"We needed you to believe that we didn't know anything. You're notoriously known for breaking the rules. At least this way you weren't going to run off half-cocked thinking that we were hiding something from you. I'm sorry, Chief."

He can see the guilt in the agent's eyes, but it does nothing to calm the inferno in his veins. Kneading his forehead with his palm, he tries to calm the rage of his blood pressure. "And what would've happened if you had been wrong? If Joyce actually was Brenner's target?" 

"We didn't put those four agents on the island because you asked us to, we put them there for our sake. For damage control, just in case there was a sliver of a chance that we were wrong and so they'd be there for the Byers if worst came to worse." Rhodes pauses for a moment, looking down at his hands in his lap. "I think sometimes you underestimate the FBI, Chief. We knew what was happening as soon as Brenner became messy, but we couldn't move in on him yet. It was for your safety too."

"My  _safety?"_ Hopper roars. "I'm sitting here with a fucking gunshot wound in my femoral, how the hell was that keeping me safe?" his eyes are blazing now, and it takes every ounce of strength not to choke the life out of the man next to him. 

"If you had known where Brenner was this entire time, can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me that you wouldn't have run after him? Just like you did when you thought he was moving towards Georgia? You would've gone in guns blazing and he probably would've killed you on sight. Jesus, for all you know he could've been building bombs or holding onto an arsenal of weapons, Hopper! I've known you for almost seven months now, I know your type. What we did was what we had to do because you would've been a liability to this case!"

"So this was your plan, huh?" Hopper smacks his fists down at his sides. "Lure me out, lure him in, lie to my face like I'm a fucking child, get me to go in after him and just hope that I don't die in the process? This is why the FBI is all fucking bullshit. First, you allow this psychotic asshole mutilate human beings while working for you, then you use people like chess pieces in your little game of trying to clean up your mess. I might play it a little fast and loose, but what you asshats do is even worse. You abuse your power when you should be protecting the people who you've promised to protect, or the ones you've already hurt."

By the time his rant was finished, he could hear the beeping of his monitors rising in volume. He tried to take a deep breath, calming down the rage that was running up and down his spine. 

"It worked out in the end, Chief." Rhodes states simply. "I'm sorry it had to be this way, but it's over. Jesus, Director Webster will probably give you a fucking medal for cleaning up his mess. Anyway, I'll leave you be." 

Hopper watches as the agent moves towards the door, the man spinning on his heal to take one more look at him. "Thank you for your help, Chief." Rhodes presses his lips together, giving a lazy salute before holding the door open for Joyce to reenter. 

"You okay?" she asks, holding a warm cup of coffee in her hand. "You look upset." she settles back into the seat next to him, brushing a stray hair out of his face. 

Nobody would ever believe their fantastic and terrible story of survival. A million people could be told and not a single one of them would ever even think to consider it as a fact. Only the ones who had seen it could believe in it. It was crazy how that worked; something that was blind to others had shone so brightly in his eyes, Leading him directly to Joyce.

"I'm okay now." he smiles, staring at her through his eyelashes while her hand re-intertwines with him. 

"Good, I'm glad." She smiles back at him, a warm and truthful smile that felt a lot like freedom. She was smiling without having to hold onto a shred of fear. It was done, it was finally over. Another chapter of her life was closing while a beautiful one would begin. She thought that was the case when she had moved, but moving was just a façade to cover the fact that she was running. 

There was nothing left to run from. 

But a million places she could run to. 

"I love you," she whispers softly. 

"I love you too."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, the epilogue <3


	20. Chapter Twenty - Epilogue: Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years later and pain has blossomed into love
> 
> Song of the chapter: Aftermath by Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein

**Three Years Later**

 

For the first time ever, Joyce Byers, now Joyce Hopper, was actually happy with the idea of hosting a party. A fourth of July party, to be exact. She wasn't exactly sure why she was so excited to host, maybe because it felt well deserved. A night for everybody to enjoy themselves and the cool ocean water that contrasted well with the summer heat. 

She had kept her apartment in Georgia, knowing that when they finally drove away to go back to Hawkins as a family, that it would be waiting for all of them to return. The poles that held up the bridge crossing the island had faded into the dark and waved them farewell as they closed yet another chapter of their lives. Well, maybe less of a closed chapter and more like a merged chapter. She wasn't leaving for good, she would always be back to visit.

And they had kept their word to that. One weekend every month or two, the entire family huddled into the Blazer and drove down to the sunshine that was awaiting their arrival. But that wasn't all. Much like she had spent her childhood on the island in the summer, her kids did as well. It was tough for them to pack up and say goodbye to their friends for three months, but they always seemed to enjoy it in the end. 

Except for this time. For only a week, everybody was coming. Everybody. The thought of that wasn't nearly as daunting to Joyce as she had expected it to be. This time, Jonathan, Mike, Lucas, Dustin, Max, Steve, and Nancy would also be joining them. 

Oh... and also,

"Where's Kennedy?" Joyce asked in a panicked voice as she grabbed Hopper's shirt sleeve. She glanced around the beach and towards the house, but to no avail.

"Right here," Ruth called out, holding Joyce and Hopper's two-year-old daughter on her hip. The toddler giggled, her caramel-colored pigtails bouncing and blowing in the breeze. "Can't I spend time with my namesake for at least a few minutes?" she joked. 

Joyce exhaled a relieved breath, petting down her daughter's hair as she clung onto Ruth's hip. "I was just worried, that's all. My two year old runs off and I have no clue where she is? I'm gonna worry."

"She was just fine," Ruth smiles, tapping her finger against Kennedy's nose. "We were eating some cookies, that's all. No harm no foul." 

"Cookies?" Joyce sighs. "Ruth, dinner is on the grill right now! She won't eat if she's got a belly full of sweets, huh little one?" she bends over pressing a kiss to the little girl's forehead before hoisting her out of Ruth's arms and into her own. 

"It's summer, Joycie. What kind of kids doesn't like sweets in the summer? Especially when it's hot as Hell's boiler room out here," the woman laughs, fanning the breeze closer to her face. Joyce smiles and gives her a faux eye roll. 

"Trust me, she gets enough sweets with Hop around. I wake up in the night and he's practically feeding her all the sugar in the world just to make her smile." she turns her head to look down at Kennedy and turning on her baby voice. "Isn't that right? You've got daddy wrapped around your little finger, huh." 

"Is that my princess?" Hopper roars as he steps away from the grill, swiping Kennedy out of Joyce's arms and swinging her in the air. "I eat princesses for breakfast!" he growls in a fake voice, earning endless giggles from the toddler as he peppers her cheek in kisses. 

Joyce smiled a wide grin as she watched her husband riling up their daughter. Her husband. It still felt weird saying it out loud. When she had moved here almost three years ago, she would've never in her wildest dreams imagined that he would be her husband. 

Staring out at the teenagers splashing away in the water, she felt a sudden wave of nostalgia washing over her. A husband, two more daughters and two sons, and more love than she thought her heart could hold. She started out here as a broken woman pretending she wasn't as damaged as she was. She returned with everything that could've ever fixed the pain. 

The waves had witnessed it all. Her highest points and her lowest. Her children laughing and her children crying. Her heart while it was breaking and her heart while it was mending. Coming back to the water felt like returning to an old friend. One that never judged her for how she was beginning to crack, and never shamed her for the way she healed. But she had learned that home was not by the water, her home was where he was. It was cliché, but she didn't give a damn.

They say that if you end a story in the same place it began, then you've wasted your time. That wasn't the least bit true. She had started her newest chapter alongside the water, and she was here. She wasn't the same person; none of them were. But that didn't mean any time had been wasted. It had taught them to grow. She was standing in the same spot she had started in, but the story had changed and she wasn't the same person anymore. Not by a longshot. 

The sound of the door front door shutting from inside the house pulled her out of her reverie. Jonathan and Nancy walking in the door, coming back from a quick trip to the market. Before anybody could get a word in edgewise, Steve was out of his lawn chair and rifling through the bags that the couple was carrying. 

"Strawberry flavored wine-coolers?" he reads the label in disgust. "You bought the chick beer? You might as well have brought me tampons!" 

Joyce could hear Hopper snorting under his breath and she can't help but giggle too.

"Calm down, Harrington!" Jonathan bites back with an exasperated laugh. "We got the regular beer too, and you're lucky we did. It's the Fourth, almost every drop of alcohol on the island has been purchased already." 

Although it was hectic, every moment was enjoyable to Joyce. The smell of burgers on the grill, the thick salt water in the air, and the sound of laughter from everybody she loves. Gripping the edge of the patio fence, she closes her eyes to fight away the tears. 

But they're happy tears. Something she doesn't experience very often; or at least, she hadn't before everything changed. It's overwhelming in a way, seeing as to how she had offered her life's ending to the universe and it denied her. Except, it didn't just deny her, it gave her everything she wanted instead. The moment she had hit rock bottom, the world had offered to build her back up. Restoring everything it had once broken... as if it were an apology.

Hopper's leg had healed without any problems, except now he couldn't stop joking about his new 'superpowers' because he could always feel when a storm was coming on. Elle thought it was funny, and Joyce didn't have the heart to tell her that it was probably arthritis. 

Seven months after she had moved back to Hawkins, they had packed their bags for their monthly annual trip back to Jekyll Island. What Joyce didn't know was that Hopper hadn't just packed his bag, but also a diamond ring in a little black box. On their first anniversary, he had popped the question on the beach and she cried to the point where she could barely choke out the word 'yes.' Some people thought it might've been too soon, but the ones who mattered to them knew that time didn't matter because they clearly were going to be together for the rest of their lives.

They had finally sold her old little ranch house, buying a bigger and better home to accommodate their growing family. Something nice right in the Maple Street Cul-de-sac. Hopper was hesitant at first because he knew Elle would be around Mike all the time, but eventually, the kid started to grow on him. The day they had moved in wasn't full of tears and sadness like when she had moved out of Hawkins. Instead, it was the entire family packing up boxes and loading them up while Joyce sat and watched. She wanted to help, but the eight-months-along pregnancy she was carrying left Hopper no choice but to keep her on the sidelines. 

Oh yes,  _that_  happened. Of course, neither of them had exactly planned on growing their family by one more, but the positive pregnancy test in her hand said otherwise. Man plans and God laughs. She'd be lying if she said it hadn't caused a slight hitch in their marriage, but as soon as she heard the heartbeat for the first time, she couldn't have been happier.

The moment the doctor had shouted 'it's a girl', both of them broke down in hysterical tears. Another girl, another perfect little Hopper Junior to join the clan. Then it had been Hopper's turn to be a worried mess. He had spent nights staring down at their beautiful little girl in fear that he would lose her just like he had lost Sara. But one day, he remembered what had happened the day he was nearly killed. Hearing Sara's voice just as it had been before cancer had taken over her body. She had sounded so happy when he'd heard it, and he never understood why. 

Now, he did. She knew. His daughter knew exactly why he needed to live. He needed to see his life continue and blossom into what it would turn into; what she already knew it would be. She had almost sounded excited when he felt her calling him from the bright light ahead of him. Sometimes, he likes to think that she was going to tell him all of the wonderful things that would happen if he kept fighting to stay alive. As soon as he remembered that, his worry began to wash away and he enjoyed watching Kennedy grow. 

Of course, they picked the name Kennedy. Kennedy Anne. After all, Ruth Kennedy was pretty much responsible for their relationship. If the meddlesome older woman hadn't thrust Joyce into Hopper's arms, none of this would've happened. So, naming her had been a sort of homage paid to their proxy-grandmother. Elle had picked the middle name 'Anne', since Hopper had always read her and Sara 'Anne of Green Gables'. The moment she suggested it, Hop had broken down in tears and hugged her with a tight force. 

Everything had fallen so perfectly into place after Brenner's demise. Well, perfectly imperfect. But neither of them passed the days by just surviving, instead, they lived. Each breath taken was no longer a countdown until something bad happened next. They woke up to the sunshine and no longer feared the night. Being together made it all so much more worth it. The outcome of the pain had given them the biggest blessings they could possibly ask for. 

"Alright, dinner is ready!" Hopper calls out, making sure his voice reaches the six teens who were currently splashing around in the water. As he loaded the burgers onto the buns, the kids came out of the water, one after another, all of them hungry and ready for the evening to begin. 

Within seconds, the entire back patio became a frenzy. Three young adults, six teenagers, a toddler, Joyce, Hopper, Ruth, and Henry, as well as more than enough food gathered on the two adjoining picnic tables that had been set out for the occasion. 

"Alright, first off," Joyce stands up after settling Kennedy into her highchair. "I just wanna say how thankful I am that we're all able to be here together. Safe and sound, but also happy. Cheers." 

"Cheers!" the crowd recites.

Joyce stares lovingly down at the faces in front of her, the people eating and talking as the world keeps moving. But it feels like she's frozen in a moment of time. A moment of such crystal clear clarity that it takes her breath away.

_"The last person who pissed me off got shot!"_

_"Yeah, and he shot you because you pissed him off first!"_

_"Can you pass the ketchup?"_

_"I'm gonna go grab another beer."_

_"Kennedy, don't play with your food!"_

_"What time are the fireworks?"_

_"Can you two stop kissing and just eat your damn food?"_

Each person sitting at the table, she held an entire heart full of love for. That was the clarity. She was surrounded by the entirety of her heart, and when she had first come here, she felt as if she had almost lost it all. A sense of pride swelled in her heart, her lips curling into a soft and gentle smile. 

So much love. 

 

* * *

 

 

Standing with Kennedy wrapped up in her arms, Joyce watched as the fireworks reflected off of the rolling waves. The sky was dimming into soft red shades and the sky was clear enough to see the lighthouse from Saint Simons Island. 

Her hand came up from where she was holding Kennedy to brush a piece of hair away from the little one's face. 

"Fireworks, Mama! Look! Fireworks!" the toddler cooed, pointing at the sky with her tiny little hand. 

"I see them, baby. Aren't they pretty?" she smiled, watching the missiles exploded into beautiful colors of pinks and blues and yellows. "Do you know why we do fireworks on the fourth of July?" she asked, the little girl shaking her head but her eyes full of attentive curiosity. 

"Because, a very long time ago, we were at war. Kinda like the war that daddy fought in when he was younger. When we finally won the war, they set fireworks into the sky to make people happy. They were celebrating the end of pain and celebrating the new beginning of happiness." Joyce looks down at her daughter contently, watching the colorful reflections in the toddler's eyes. 

"Is that why you call me your little firework, Mama? Because I make you happy?"

Joyce felt tears beginning well in her eyes. Taking a shaky breath, she nods. "I guess it is, sweetpea. Because you were my happiness that came after a bad time." she presses a kiss to Kennedy's peachy cheek before the little one cuddles closer towards her mother's skin.

Suddenly, Joyce feels a soft and familiar palm pressed to her back. "Hey," Hopper smiles down at her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. 

"Hey," Joyce replies, using a free hand to wipe away the small teardrops on her face. "You gonna watch the fireworks with us?" she asks, leaning her head into his chest. He nods silently, enjoying the moment of blissfulness. 

The silence between them is filled by the loud popping and cracking of the fireworks, but neither of them mind. The breeze that sweeps through the night begins to blow, sending the warm air away from them. 

"You've come a long way, Joy." Hopper breaks the silence first. 

Joyce looks up at him with only love in her eyes. "We both have."

He grins, leaning down to kiss her. "I love you so much," he whispers against her lips. 

"I love you too... so, so much."

 

They had offered everything to the water; but never once did they let the riptide wash away everything they had ever learned to love. 

 

**The End.**

 

artwork by me :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so heartbroken that this is over. I may do a few one-shots from the Riptide-verse someday, but as of now, the story has reached it's ending. I love you guys
> 
> Don't let Riptide die. 
> 
> xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued!


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